


Sealed Within the Heart

by Fledgling



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Din doesn’t know what to do with his feelings for Cobb, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitive!Cobb Vanth, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Mentions of Slavery, Minor Character Death, Pining, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledgling/pseuds/Fledgling
Summary: After the defeat of the krayt dragon, Cobb convinces Din to stay for at least the night. Din agrees, expecting a night on the marshal’s couch and then to be gone in the morning; never mind whatever feelings Din might have about the charming man.And then he realizes Cobb has powers, just like the child does. And all his plans on leaving seem to not matter anymore.A Force Sensitive!Cobb Vanth AU.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 118
Kudos: 562





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I am a simple woman: I see a space cowboy and another, more literal space cowboy, and my mind goes wild. Also I don’t even remember where I got the idea for this AU anymore, I just know it now lives in my brain, constantly banging around pots and pans when I’m not actively writing it. I have no idea how long this is going to be in total; I’ve got three chapters written so far and I think I’m already around the 10K mark so...  
> Also I apologize for any inaccuracies I make about the Force or Mandalorians or anything like that. I’ve researched as much as I could and I hope I’ve got everything at least somewhat right, but if I’ve severely screwed anything up please let me know!  
> Also if you want to come scream about space cowboys with me, I’m over on Tumblr at [i-dnt-know-either](https://i-dnt-know-either.tumblr.com/)

There was something about the marshal that Din couldn’t figure out. 

It was the way he had stayed so calm when they had first met, as if he had known Din didn’t want to use violence if he didn’t have to. Not that he had been unwilling—if it had come down to it, he’d have peeled the armor off the marshal’s corpse—but he tried to avoid fighting when he could. 

It was also the natural, easy charm he had. Din had seen it first hand in the way he talked to the townspeople—and in the way he talked to Din, too. He was magnetic, pulling people close with only a few words and an easy smile. Din had been thinking about that smile a lot, actually. About running his thumb along the curve of his bottom lip, of leaning in and taking a taste. Impossible, surely, but the thought persisted. 

Most telling of all was the way they had fought together. There had been no words exchanged, barely even a look between them, and they were both moving, flying, side by side as naturally as breathing. They had moved in sync, as if they had been through a hundred battles together, as if soaring through the skies at Din’s side was where Cobb was supposed to be. Not only that, but Cobb had moved _with_ him, complementing his every action like a sentient shadow, as if he knew Din’s every move before he had even made it. It stirred a familiar ache in Din’s chest every time he thought about it, the longing for a partner, someone to be always at his side.

The longing was still simmering in his chest as he secured the armor to the back of his speeder, determined to not look at where the marshal had gone. He needed to leave; needed to continue his mission, find more Mandalorians. He couldn’t linger, no matter how much he wanted to spend more time basking in Cobb’s presence like he was a third desert sun.

The child turned his attention from the chuck of meat, looking to the side and chirping. Din followed his gaze to see the marshal once more approaching them, wide smile still firmly in place.

“So,” Cobb started, stopping just short of Din, “you’re planning on heading back to Mos Eisley, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Cobb looked towards the sky, humming.

“Won’t make it there before nightfall, this late in the day. And there’s a lot of things livin’ in the desert that come out when the suns go down.”

“Anything worse than that?” Din gestured to the krayt dragon’s corpse.

“Maybe not as big,” Cobb chuckled, “but just as vicious.”

Din said nothing. He had a feeling he knew where this was going; and if the marshal asked, he didn’t know if he had it in him to say no.

“You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

There it was.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Cobb shrugged, “You wouldn’t be. In fact, I’d be happy to put you up for the night. Both of you.”

Din looked back to the child, who was still watching Cobb. The child had taken an instant liking to Cobb, constantly vying for his attention and reveling in it when it was, inevitably, given. No one had been able to say no to him yet—Imperials aside—and Din wasn’t sure if it was because of the child’s innate cuteness or some unknown facet of his powers. Either way, he had an undeniable charm.

The same easy, magnetic charm the marshal had. 

Din suppressed a sigh; he had lost the fight before it had even began.

“Alright. But just for the night.”

Cobb’s smile brightened, and Din felt his knees weaken. How could he ever hope to win against that smile?

The trip back to town was a slow affair, just as the trip out had been. The townspeople were still riding on the edge of adrenaline, the low buzz of conversation surrounding them. Din tuned most of it out in favor of watching their surroundings—which mostly involved him sneaking glances at Cobb riding his own speeder beside him. The child had managed to convince the marshal to pick him up, and was playing with the red scarf wrapped around his neck. Cobb was watching him with a fond smile, talking softly to him and rubbing his ears.

“Does he have a name?”

Din jolted at the question. Cobb glanced at him, before turning his attention back to the child. Din felt his cheeks heat; had Cobb realized he had been watching him?

“No. Not that I know, anyway.”

“So what do you call him?”

Din tilted his head to the side, “Kid, usually. Sometimes ‘hey stop touching that’.”

Cobb chuckled, readjusting his hold on the child.

“Bit of a troublemaker, eh? Just like your dad.”

The heat in Din’s cheeks increased. It was the first time anyone had ever insinuated that he was the child’s father. It struck him then, how similar he and the kid were: losing their family, being taken in by a faceless warrior, struggling to adjust to their new reality. He hadn’t thought about what he would do if he couldn’t find the child’s people; he supposed he’d raise him himself. The thought made his head spin, what if’s and how to’s bouncing around his skull.

“Mando?”

Din shook himself, focusing back on the present. The marshal and the child were both watching him, matching expressions of worry on their faces.

“Sorry,” Din croaked.

“‘S alright. Didn’t mean to insult you or anything by sayin’ that. I just thought—”

“No, it’s fine. I just—I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”

Cobb hummed, turning back to the child. Din sighed, resettling into his seat. After a moment Cobb returned the child to Din, turning his attention to the townspeople around them.

The rest of the trip to Mos Pelgo was uneventful, the suns mostly set by the time they returned. Din has expected instant celebration, the people rejoicing in their victory. Instead, most of the people had reunited with their families and gone home, clearly pleased but equally exhausted. 

“There’ll be a big uproar tomorrow no doubt,” Cobb drawled, as if reading Din’s thoughts. 

“They’ve earned it.”

“That we have.” Cobb gave Din a pointed look as he said it, making sure he knew that the we included him, too. 

“Come on,” Cobb continued, “I’m sure you and your young’n are feeling pretty worn down yourselves.”

They stopped briefly by the bar to store the meat Din had strapped to the back of his speeder—the bar apparently had a sizable cooler hidden in the back. They parked their speeders next to one of the many houses that lined the street, indistinguishable from the others. Cobb scooped the child from his bag without a word, rubbing a finger gently over one ear. 

“What’s say we find you something to eat, huh?”

“Careful, he’s got a bigger stomach than you’d think.”

Cobb laughed, “Don’t all children?”

The interior of Cobb’s home was much like Din had expected: small and simple, yet undeniably cozy and lived in. Different trinkets lined a set of shelves on one wall of the living space and a blaster lay disassembled on the low table in the middle, a couch on one side and two chairs on the other. A doorway on the left led into a small kitchen, while on the right was a closed door Din assumed led to the bedroom. 

“Just make yourself at home,” Cobb said, heading to the kitchen. “Fresher’s through the door, to the left. Should be a few rags in there, you can scrub your armor down.”

Din watched him go, listening to him talk to the child about what to make for dinner. His voice was soft, and in his mind’s eye Din could see the gentle smile that would go with it. He set the marshal’s armor—his armor, now—down by the door, having packed it in with him, and after a moment of hesitation began removing his weapons, setting them beside it. He moved to the closed door, opening and closing it loud enough for the sound to carry to the kitchen and let Cobb know where he was. The bedroom was the same style as the rest of the house, with a dresser on one side and a surprisingly large bed on the other, the sheets tossed to one corner. The thought of Cobb tangled in those sheets, soft and warm with sleep, crept into Din’s mind before he could stop it. Din could imagine himself there too, lying next to him, maybe even the child, curled up between them. A little family, happy and safe. 

Din turned sharply towards the door on his left, making sure to lock it behind him. Unfortunately, it did little to calm the deep ache of longing that was rekindling in his chest. 

Din tried to block the thoughts out as he began removing his armor and scrubbing the green slime from it, focusing on the constant back and forth of the rag, getting into all the dips and crevices where the various beskar plates met. It was a useless notion; he had cleaned his armor hundreds of times, could probably do it in his sleep, and his thoughts kept going back to the handsome, charming marshal. 

Breastplate, pauldrons. 

He could hear muffled laughter from the next room, bright and cheerful even through the wall. What would that laughter sound like, dancing through the Razor Crest? What would it feel like, pressed against his lips?

Vambraces, thigh guards. 

Was Cobb a hugger? A cuddler? There was little doubt in Din’s mind about that. How well would he fit in Din’s arms? How much of his warmth would transfer to Din?

Helmet. 

Din stared at the impassive face of his helmet. He could see his reflection in the polished surface, vague and distorted but his face, nonetheless. Which face was the real one: the blank beskar, or the tired eyes staring back at him from his reflection? Which face was actually his?

A knock on the door startled him out of the downward spiral his thoughts were becoming, and he jammed the helmet back on his head. 

“Hey, buddy,” Cobb’s smooth drawl came through the door, “figured you’d want to eat in here, what with the door and all. Food’s on the dresser.”

There was a pause, and Din could hear the rustling of fabric.

“Got some other clothes for you, too. Figured you didn’t have any spares. They’re sitting next to the food.”

More silence.

“Thank you,” Din said, voice soft. He hoped it conveyed all the things he couldn’t say, all the words and feelings that were trapped in his head, stuck on his tongue.

“Course. Me and the kid are gonna eat in the kitchen; you just join us whenever you’re ready.”

Din listened to him walk away, the door opening and closing. He waited a few moments before he slipped the helmet off once more, setting it down next to the rest of his armor. He looked down at himself, grimacing at the amount of slime that covered his flightsuit. Cobb was right; he hadn’t thought to bring any spares. Getting his flightsuit off was easier than the armor, and he folded it up in such a way that all the slime was contained within the fabric.

He opened the door and was immediately met with the smell of food, his stomach growling eagerly. Everything was on the dresser, as Cobb had said, and Din crossed to it, keeping one eye on the door that led to the rest of the house. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Cobb; a lifetime of conditioning was simply hard to ignore. He tugged the borrowed clothes on, struggling a little bit. While they weren’t terribly different in height, they were different in build, and the pants especially were a bit tighter than he’d like. But they were clean and soft, so he’d deal with it. More importantly they were _Cobb’s_ , and that thought sent a thrill through Din that he decided not to examine too closely.

Finally dressed, Din turned his attention to the food. A steaming bowl of soup met him, the scent spicy and fragrant. He grasped the spoon sitting in the bowl and stirred it around, watching the various bits of meat and vegetable swirl around. He scooped up a piece of meat, blowing on it before putting it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting the flavors wash over him. It had been a while since he had eaten something other than bland rations, and it made the soup taste even better.

Din took his time eating, listening to the muffled sounds of Cobb and the child from the other room. It made the emotions already swirling in him twist and curdle, any feelings of warmth and companionship muddled by intense loneliness, as solid as the wall separating him from the other two. He crossed to the door, staring at it for a long moment before sitting on the floor, his back pressed against it. He could catch snippets of what Cobb was saying as he continued eating; it sounded as if he was recounting some grand adventure to the child, involving a daring pilot and a dastardly pirate.

Din stared at the now empty bowl in his hands. Longing and loneliness had been his steadfast companions for as long as he had worn the armor—maybe even before that. After so many years, he was finally reaching the point where it bothered him more than he could ignore it. Whether it was the loss of the other Mandalorians or the addition of the child, or perhaps just a lifetime of solitude, he was unsure. Either way, he could no longer ignore the desire for a companion, a partner.

For someone like Cobb Vanth.

Din sighed, standing and retrieving his helmet. He slid it on, letting it settle in place. The weight of it was familiar, though it didn’t bring the comfort that it usually did. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to gather himself before exiting the bedroom.

Cobb and the child were in the kitchen, Cobb cleaning up from dinner while the child sat on the counter next to him, watching his every movement. They both looked up as Din entered, identical smiles across their faces.

“Hey, there he is!” Cobb said, turning back to the pot he was cleaning. “I told you he wouldn’t be much longer, kiddo.”

“I hope he wasn’t any trouble. He can be a handful.”

As if to prove his point, the child squeaked, teetering forward with his arms outstretched towards Din. Din saw what was coming, already sprinting across the room towards the child as he overbalanced and fell towards the floor. Cobb twisted in alarm, swearing as he snapped one hand out towards the child.

The child stopped half a foot from the floor.

Din stared, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. The child giggled, waving his arms around where he was suspended in the air. Cobb released a shaky breath, slowly lowering his hand. As he did, the child lowered towards the floor. As his feet touched the floor Cobb swayed slightly, catching himself on the side of the sink.

“You…” Din started, watching the child toddle across the floor towards him.

“Uh, yeah, if you could ignore what happened just now, that’d be great.”

Din stared at Cobb, watching him scrub the pot with increased force. He was resolutely not looking at Din or the child, the color drained from his face. The child trilled, tugging on Din’s pant leg. Din knelt down and scooped him up, holding him close as he stepped beside Cobb. The marshal was still staring down at the pot, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white. Din set his bowl down on the counter next to him, watching him suppress a flinch.

“You have powers. Like the child does.” Din croaked.

Cobb glanced at the child, his eyes quickly turning back to the pot.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Cobb sighed, dropping the pot and running his fingers through his hair. His whole body was tense, from his jaw to his stance, and Din longed to reach out and put him at ease.

“I’ve been searching for the child’s people,” Din continued. “People like him, who can do what he does.”

Cobb shook his head, “It’s not me you’re looking for.”

“But—”

“Look, Mando,” Cobb spun to face Din, still pale and tense. “I’m not some mystical warrior, or wise sage, or whatever you’re suddenly hoping I might be. I’m just a man who can do things he doesn’t understand.”

Before Din could say anything else Cobb was moving, heading through the kitchen to the living room. He collapsed onto the couch, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. Din followed, sitting across from him in one of the chairs. He watched and waited, letting the marshal gather his thoughts.

“When I was a kid, maybe about five or six, I threw a bowl across the room without touching it,” Cobb said after a few minutes, his voice like sandpaper. “I had been arguing with another kid—I don’t even remember what it was about. I just remember being so angry, and then there was a bowl shattering against the wall.”

Din tilted his head to the side. Cobb ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“We all agreed to not talk about it; didn’t want to get into trouble. One of the adults pulled me to the side later. I’m not really sure where he was from; no one ever talked much about that kind of stuff. He explained to me about the Force, the Jedi, how if I had been born a couple decades sooner, I probably would have been taken in and trained by them. As it was, he told me that I needed to hide my powers, or else I’d been in danger.”

“Danger from who?”

“Everyone.”

Din looked down at the child, thinking about all of the danger he had been through in just the short time they had been together.

“What’s the Force?”

Cobb turned his head to look at Din. Some of the color had returned to his face, though now he looked exhausted.

“The Force—at least how the old man explained it to me—is a kind of,” Cobb waved his hand through the air, “universal presence. An energy, given off by every living thing in the whole universe. It’s the Force that lets the kid do what he does.”

“And you.”

“Yeah. And me.”

They fell into silence, Cobb dropping his head into his hands and leaning his elbows on his knees. Din could watch the conflict playing across his face, the tension still in his shoulders and jaw. The child whined, reaching out towards Cobb. Din set him down on the floor, watching him walk towards the marshal. He cooed up at him, patting his leg when he wasn’t immediately acknowledged. Cobb dropped his hands, looking down at the child with a weak grin.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asked, voice thick.

The child lifted his arms, and Cobb picked him up, sitting him in his lap. The child reached for his scarf, tangling his hands in it and holding on tight. He burrowed his face into Cobb’s chest, making a sound almost like a purr.

“Would you be willing to work with him?” Din asked as he watched them. “To teach him what you know?”

“Don’t think there’s too much I can do,” Cobb answered, shrugging. “It’s not like I had anyone to teach me; anything I know, I've figured out on my own.”

“You still have knowledge. Anything would be helpful.”

Cobb frowned, running one finger down one of the child’s ears.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”


	2. The Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya’ll I am beyond thrilled at how excited you guys are for this fic. Like I’m legit blown away by all the comments you guys have left, you have no idea. Thank you guys so so much!!

It was agreed that any training that was to happen wouldn’t be happening until the next morning. The physical toll of the day was bearing down upon them, the child falling asleep in Cobb’s lap.

“You can go ahead and take the bed,” Cobb whispered, trying to ease his scarf out of the child’s hand.

“No.”

Cobb raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t turn his attention from his task.

“Why not? The door locks, you’ll be able to take the helmet off. I ain’t gonna run off in the middle of the night with your kid and the armor, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed Din’s mind; the marshal was too honest, too loyal to do anything like that. Din realized all at once that he trusted him, completely and implicitly. He wasn’t sure what to do with that thought just yet.

“It’s not that,” Din muttered. “I just don’t want to put you out of your own bed. You’re already letting us into your home.”

Cobb glanced up at him, grinning.

“You think I haven’t passed out on the couch before? I promise, it’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“Then I’ll sleep on it. I don’t mind.”

Cobb shook his head, muttering under his breath something that sounded an awful lot like ‘stubborn bastard’.

“You ain’t gonna budge on this, huh?”

“I’m a hard man to move.”

Cobb snorted, giving Din a quick once over. Din was acutely aware of his lack of armor, leaving him feeling exposed. The way the marshal looked him over sent a heated twist through his gut; he couldn’t help but wonder what Cobb thought of what he saw.

“We could always share the bed.”

That is not what Din expected to come out of Cobb’s mouth.

“It’ll be a little bit cramped, but not too bad. And with the lights out and the window closed, it’ll be so dark I wouldn’t be able to see anything if you did feel like takin’ your helmet off. Assuming that’s how that works, of course.”

Din didn’t have an immediate response to that. It was the best compromise they had and, technically, he could remove the helmet as long as Cobb didn’t see his face. They main problem came with the actual _sharing the bed_ part. When was the last time Din had shared a bed with someone, aside from the child? The burgeoning attraction he felt towards the marshal didn’t help either, although it would answer his earlier question of whether or not Cobb was a cuddler.

And wasn’t _that_ a thought?

“That will work,” Din said, his voice coming out a bit hoarser than he’d like.

Cobb smiled. He had given up on rescuing his scarf from the child, choosing instead to untie it from his neck and give it completely to him. The child pulled it closer in his sleep, burying his face into it. Din stepped closer, holding his arms out. Cobb handed the child over, his smile turning fond as he watched them.

“I’ve got a spare blanket if you want to set him up somewhere in here. The chair would probably be pretty cozy for him.”

Din nodded, watching Cobb from his peripheral as he walked into the bedroom. There was the faint sound of a drawer opening and fabric rustling, followed by the drawer closing once more. Cobb returned a second later, a bundle of blue cloth in his arms. He dumped it into the chair Din had been sitting in, arranging it until it formed a shallow nest.

“Good?” Cobb asked, turning back to Din.

Din nodded as he stepped closer, kneeling and laying the child in the blanket. He grabbed one of the longer edges and pulled it up until it covered his body, rubbing his thumb over the child’s forehead. The child made mumbled in his sleep, pulling the scarf closer and curling up under the blanket.

“He’s definitely a cute little bugger,” Cobb said, voice thick with the same fondness that had turned his smile a minute earlier.

“You won’t be thinking that come morning when he’s chewed through your scarf.”

Cobb laughed softly, shrugging.

“I have a spare.”

Din stood, taking one last look at the child before turning towards Cobb. He gestured towards the bedroom with one hand, letting Cobb take the lead. A nervous tingle was spreading under his skin, different than the anticipation that came before a fight or the apprehension that came from sneaking through the dark. The feeling only intensified as he followed Cobb into the room and listened to the door slide shut behind them. Unsure of what to do with himself, he made his way into the attached room, picking his armor up from where he had left it earlier and moving it to the end of the bed. He stared at his flightsuit, wondering if there was any salvaging it.

“We can try and clean that up in the morning.”

Din barely suppressed the jump that Cobb’s voice appearing behind him caused. He nodded, refolding the flightsuit and depositing it next to his armor.

“Do you, uh, mind if I ditch the shirt?”

Din turned his head, quick enough that he heard his neck crack. Cobb had switched out his pants already and now stood by the dresser, plucking at the hem of his shirt. He was looking anywhere other than at Din, a faint flush crawling up his neck.

“If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s fine, I just—I don’t usually where one when I sleep.”

Din’s mind short-circuited, then scrambled to restart by supplying him with a multitude of images of the marshal, shirtless and sleep-rumpled. Images he’d probably be seeing in the morning, he realized.

Oh, he was doomed.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind.”

Cobb smiled, and wasted no time in pulling his shirt over his head. Din turned his head back to his armor, pretending to examine it for damage. It wasn’t enough; he could still see the other’s bared torso from the corner of his eye. He could make out the shape of a few nasty looking scars curling around his side and under his ribs, as if a set of claws had raked across. What other scars did he have? What stories did they tell?

“Alright, lights going out.”

The room was plunged into darkness, Din’s HUD automatically switching to night vision to compensate. He watched Cobb move through the room, slow but confident, and sit on the edge of the bed. He switched off the night vision, letting himself join Cobb in the complete darkness. He could no longer see Cobb, nor could he see his own hands when he held them before his face. Din took a deep breath, reaching up and grasping the bottom of his helmet. It slid off easily, and he set it gently next to the rest of his armor.

“You have any preference of side?” Cobb asked, his voice soft in the dark. Cobb had a nice voice, Din decided, especially without the helmet muffling it.

“Not the wall.”

Din barely heard the sharp intake of breath from Cobb, undoubtedly from hearing his voice without the modulator.

“Yeah, that’s—that‘s doable.”

He listened to Cobb shuffle around on the bed as he stood and walked around to the side of it. He waited until the shuffling stopped before climbing in himself, trusting his hands to guide him. He found the edge of the sheet, pulling it up and sliding under it. He was met with a warm back; Cobb had turned to face the wall. Whether it was his normal sleeping position or if he was doing it for Din’s comfort, Din wasn’t sure. It warmed his heart all the same.

“Thank you,” Din whispered. Once more he tried to pour everything he couldn’t say into the two words.

“You’re welcome.”

Sleep took its time coming to Din, between his own thoughts bouncing around his skull and his keen awareness of Cobb’s presence next to him. The marshal had fallen to sleep a few minutes after they had laid down, his breath slow and even and warmth radiating off of him. Once Din’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he turned his head and stared at the marshal’s back.

The first thing he noticed was the star-shaped burn scar that covered his left shoulder blade. A hot, searing anger immediately filled Din. He could easily guess what a mark like that meant; had seen similar marks on other people, usually chained next to slimy businessmen or bloodthirsty warlords.

A mark of ownership. A mark of slavery.

Din took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. There was nothing for him to do about it—Cobb was obviously not a slave anymore, and Din didn’t recognize the mark enough to know who to take his sudden fury out on. Assuming they were even around anymore; it was possible they had already been taken out.

There were other scars too, when Din had calmed enough to get a second look. A few marks that looked like they came from the lash of a whip; another mark that looked like it had come from a blade; a burn scar on his right hip, barely poking out of the waistband of his pants. Scars from a life of hardship, of fighting everyday just for the right to live.

Din was all too familiar with those types of scars.

Din’s hand twitched as he fought the desire to reach out, trace over the scars, see if there were any others that were too faint for his eyes to catch in the darkness. To trace the muscles in his back, shoulders, to pull him close and—

Din turned onto his side, facing away from Cobb and pulling his arms to his chest.

He was so, so doomed.

Din awoke an indeterminable amount of time later, the room still dark. An unfamiliar weight was draped over his side: an arm, he realized, feeling the tips of fingers grazing his spine. A puff of breath against his throat jolted him to full awareness.

At some point in the night, he had turned back to face the marshal, who had apparently done the same. They were pressed chest to chest, Cobb’s head tucked under his chin and arm thrown over his side. Din could feel his heart racing, and wondered for a second if Cobb could feel it where they were pressed together.

Well, that answered the question of if Cobb was a cuddler or not.

Din took a deep breath, slowly raising his arm. He was certain Cobb was still asleep; surely the man would have moved if he was awake. Carefully, Din let his arm fall over Cobb’s side. He was impossibly warm, as if one of Tatooine’s suns had taken up residence in his chest. Din released his breath, unaware he had been holding it, and let his hand lie flat against Cobb’s back. He was able to brush one of the whip scars with the edge of two of his fingers, though he held back from tracing the length of it. He was already pressing his luck as it was.

Din squeezed his eyes shut, trying to capture the feeling of the other man in his arms into memory. He couldn’t remember being so close to someone before, and he wasn’t sure when he’d do it again, if ever. He let himself revel in the sensation: the warmth from Cobb’s skin, the feel of his chest expanding as he breathed, the way his muscles moved under his skin as he shifted to get comfortable.

The moment was broken by the sound of quiet tapping on the bedroom door. Din sighed and carefully extracted himself from Cobb, trying not to wake him. The marshal mumbled in his sleep, turning over to occupy the space Din had left. It made Din long to climb back in, curl back up with him, wait for him to wake up if only to see what he looked like, what he sounded like.

Instead, Din picked his helmet up from the floor and slid it on, the night vision once more bathing the room in green. He opened the bedroom door, unsurprised to see the child on the other side staring up at him. Din held a finger up to his lips, kneeling down to scoop the child up. To his surprise the child ducked past him, making his way towards the bed.

“Hey, kid, hold up,” Din whispered.

The child paid him no mind, lifting his arms up and grabbing the edge of the bed, trying to pull himself up. Din sighed, crossing to the bed and grabbing the child under the arms, lifting him and holding him to his chest. The child whimpered, turning in Din’s arms and reaching out towards Cobb.

“No, you’ve gotta let him sleep.”

The child continued to ignore him. No, not ignore him—just focusing on something else. Din could see the sheet being tugged down, inch by inch, as if a tiny, invisible hand was pulling on it.

“Hey, stop,” Din said, putting a bit more force behind his words.

The child whimpered once more, but did stop. It appeared that Din was too late, however; with a scrunched-up expression and a rough grumble, Cobb sat up and yawned. He blinked at the two of them, reaching a hand up and running it through his hair.

“Guess someone’s hungry, huh?” Cobb rasped. The roughness of his voice sent a shiver up Din's spine.

Din swallowed hard, watching Cobb stretch his arms above his head. The sheet was pooled in his lap, exposing his torso, and Din longed to reach out and run his fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw, pull him forward, get a close look at the sleep-soft expression he wore.

“Probably,” Din managed to get out. “Either for food or attention.”

“Well, there’s plenty of both,” Cobb said, stifling another yawn. “I’ll be out that way in just a second.”

Din nodded and turned on his heel, retreating to the living room to the audible disappointment of the child.

“He’ll be out in just a second,” Din said, placing him back into the blanket nest. The scarf was there too, and the child grabbed it, holding it tight to his chest. There were no teeth marks in the fabric, much to Din’s surprise.

“You’re awfully attached to him, aren’t you?”

The child chirped, holding the scarf out to Din. Din took it between two fingers and his thumb, not trying to take it but holding it with him. The child looked between him and the scarf, chirping once more.

“Yeah,” Din whispered, “I’m pretty attached to him too.”

The child let go of the scarf, choosing instead to play with the blanket he was sitting on. Din watched him for a moment, then turned his attention to the scarf. It was softer than he had expected, the bright crimson showing signs of wear at the edges with a neat line of stitches winding through part of it. It was a reflection of its owner, Din thought, as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers.

“Right then,” Cobb called from the bedroom, “what sounds good for breakfast?”

The man appeared a few seconds later, dressed for the day; he had likely called out as a warning, to let Din know he was about to come out. Din appreciated the sentiment more than he’d probably ever be able to express, just like with everything he felt about the marshal.

“The kid will eat literally anything,” Din said as he stood. “I’m not picky either.”

Cobb hummed, walking over to stare down at the child. The child looked up from his current mission of rearranging the blanket nest, his ears twitching up as he cooed.

“Good morning to you too, kid,” Cobb said as he leaned down and rubbed behind one large ear. The child raised his arms, watching Cobb expectantly. Cobb started to pick him up, then stopped, his brow furrowing.

“What is it?”

Cobb shook his head and straightened. The child whined, stretching his arms further up.

Cobb turned to look at Din, “I want to try something. If that’s okay?”

“What kind of something?”

“The something we talked about last night.”

Din nodded, taking a couple of steps to the side. Cobb took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he raised his hands in front of himself. The air in the room seemed to still, and Din watched in awe as the child began to ascend. The child squealed, waving his arms in the air as he lifted, inch by inch, towards the marshal’s hands. Cobb, for his part, had his eyes closed, the only movement he made being the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It only took a few seconds for the child to close the distance, and Cobb wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close as he released a shaking breath. He staggered to the side and Din was there in an instant, steadying him with a hand to the shoulder.

“Phew, alright,” Cobb breathed. “That went well.”

“Did you expect it not to?”

“Wasn’t sure what I expected, honestly. It’s been a while since I used the Force; even longer since it was on a living being.”

His face fell as he said it. Din wondered what kind of memory he was reliving.

“But you,” Cobb continued quickly, grinning at the child, “you did great kid.”

The child preened under the praise, his ears twitching. Cobb handed him over to Din, booping him on the nose as he did.

“Here,” Din said as Cobb started towards the kitchen, and held out the scarf.

“Oh hey, thanks. I thought something felt off.”

Cobb took the scarf, wrapping it around his neck and tying it with the ease of doing something for the thousandth time. Din followed him into the kitchen, unsure of what to do with himself. He settled for sitting at the kitchen table, the child carefully placed on the table itself. They both watched Cobb as he moved around the space.

How domestic it was, to sit with the child—his child, there was no point in denying it any longer—and watch Cobb cook. That ache of longing was thrashing about in Din’s chest again, the feeling intensifying with every simple, easy movement Cobb made. It nearly burst out of his chest when Cobb began humming, the tune unfamiliar to Din’s ears.

“How do you like your eggs?”

Din was going to die. He was going to die, killed by a handsome, charming, loyal marshal who probably didn’t even realize he was doing anything in the first place.

“I’ve never particularly cared,” Din choked out. “Usually just eat them however they come.”

Cobb looked at Din over his shoulder, “Okay, but like—no preference? At all?”

Din shook his head.

“Huh. Alright then.” Cobb turned back to the pan he was working with, then asked, “What about the kid?”

“Like I said, he’ll eat anything. Probably would eat them raw, if you handed him one.”

“Is that okay?”

Din shrugged and looked at the child.

“I haven’t seen him eat anything yet that he couldn’t handle. And I’ve seen him eat a lot.”

Cobb hummed, then grabbed another egg from the little box he had resting at his elbow. He turned and faced the table, holding the egg out in his open palm.

“Hey kid,” he called.

The child turned to him with an inquisitive sound. Cobb lifted his palm a little, the movement catching the child’s attention.

“You hungry?” he asked.

The child babbled a few words—whether they were words in his native tongue or attempts at Basic, Din still had no idea—and lifted his hands.

“Yeah? Come on then, take it.”

The child tilted his head to the side, ears flicking down.

“You can do it. Just take it, like how I picked you up earlier.”

The child warbled, turning to Din with a pleading look. Din tilted his head towards Cobb.

“Go ahead,” he assured, “it’s okay.”

The child turned back to Cobb, his eyes falling closed. For a few seconds nothing happened, and then the egg was flying through the air. It was faster than the child’s ascent had been, the egg becoming a blur. It slowed right before it met the child’s outstretched hands, landing softly within them.

“Good job, kid,” Din praised, patting him on the head.

The child giggled, looking at the egg in his hands. He tilted it from one side to another, then looked up at Din and trilled.

“Go on, you’ve earned it,” Din encouraged.

The child cooed and shoved the entire egg into his mouth.

“Is he—”

Din shrugged, “I told you. I haven’t seen anything yet that he couldn’t handle.”

Cobb opened his mouth, then closed it and shrugged.

“Well considering I’ve never seen anything close to his species before, I guess I can’t judge.”

Din said nothing, watching as the child crawled towards the edge of the table.

“So how would you say he did?” he asked after a moment, keeping his eyes on the child.

“Well, the egg didn’t explode on either him or me, so I’d say that’s a fantastic start.”

“Did you explode a lot of eggs when you were younger?”

“No, I didn’t practice on eggs. Too valuable. I mostly practiced on this little ball I had; for a certain definition of practice anyway.”

Cobb turned from the stove, carrying two plates with him stacked with eggs and bread. One of the plates had another raw egg on it, and as he set the plate down on the table he handed it to the child.

“There ya go, kid, eat up.”

The child took the egg with a happy squeak, once more shoving the whole thing in his mouth. A bit of yolk trickled out the corner of his mouth as he ate, and Din wiped it away with his thumb.

“Right then,” Cobb grinned, turning his attention to Din. “You tuck in and just come let me know when you’re done.”

Din nodded, listening to Cobb walk through the house. The bedroom door opened and closed, and Din waited for a few seconds before reaching up and removing his helmet.

Breakfast was as delicious as dinner had been, Din passing off tiny bits of cooked egg to the child every so often. The rest of the town was going about their business, muffled sounds filtering through the walls. How peaceful would there lives be, without the threat of the krayt dragon or the Tuskens looming over them? Would they need a full time marshal anymore? Most of them knew how to fight, had shown at least some level of skill with a blaster.

Din shook the thoughts from his head, finishing off the last of his breakfast. There was little point in entertaining the thought of Cobb coming with them; the man was obviously dedicated to his town and his people. No matter how desperately Din wanted him to leave with them—to train with the child, to fight by Din’s side, to _live,_ together—there was a slim to none chance of it happening.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a gentle tap to the back of his hand. The child was looking up at him, ears drooped and eyes wide. Din sighed, turning his hand over and gently gripping the child’s. It wasn’t the first time the child had tried to comfort him when his thoughts became dark, though now he wondered if the child was picking up on his distress through the Force. If so, was Cobb sensing the same?

Speaking of, the man had probably finished his own breakfast. Din replaced his helmet and stood, walking to the bedroom door and tapping his knuckles against it twice.

“We’re finished,” he called.

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened, Cobb standing in the other side.

“Everything taste good?” he asked as he headed to the kitchen.

“Yes, thank you.”

Cobb hummed as he swiped Din’s plate off the table. The child warbled at him, lifting his arms towards him.

“Give me just a second kid,” Cobb said, “then I’ll pick you up.”

The child dropped his arms, watching as Cobb began cleaning their mess from breakfast. He turned his attention to Din and babbled something.

“It’s alright, _ad’ika_. Be patient.”

It felt right, using the Mando’a to address the child. Din sighed mentally, and accepted the truth that had been lingering in the air for weeks: there was no way he’d be able to give up the kid when—if—they found his people. It left him at a loss: not only was he ignoring—no, _directly disobeying_ the mission the Armorer had given him, but it also left him at a bit of a loss on what to do with himself. Did he just go back to bounty hunting, and raise the kid as he went? Was it time to settle down, tuck the armor away? It didn’t feel right, but that would be the best choice for the child, wouldn’t it?

“ _Ad’ika_ , huh? Is that your name now?”

Din pushed the thoughts aside and refocused on the present. Cobb was holding the child, a grin stretching across his face.

“No,” Din said. “ _Ad’ika_ means child in Mando’a.”

“Is that right?” Cobb said, sending Din a look. It was that same feeling of being examined that he had given him last night before they went to bed, and Din felt himself standing a little straighter. How much did Cobb know? How many of Din’s thoughts could he see?

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Din asked, changing the subject.

“Well, normally I go out, check on everyone, and then go and patrol a bit outside of town, see if there’s any sign of the Tuskens or the krayt dragon. But since _someone_ has made it to where I don’t have to worry about either of those things,” Cobb shrugged, “I guess I’ll check in with everyone, and then we can see about working with this little guy some.”

Din nodded, “Lead the way then, marshal.”


	3. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so chapter 3! Once more, thank you all so, so much for all the comments and kudos you’ve left—they make my day every time I get one.  
> Just a few things with the story itself: after this chapter, we will be pretty much completely in AU territory. Some of the canon events will probably still happen, but not exactly as they did in the show. Also, full disclosure, I have no idea how long this story will be. I’m pretty much just rolling with it at this point.

Din stared at his right pauldron. The beskar gleamed in the light as Din traced his finger around the mudhorn forever immortalized in metal. Clan Mudhorn: a clan of two. Din’s thoughts wandered into the kitchen, where Cobb was entertaining the child.

Maybe one day, a clan of three.

Din sighed, attaching the pauldron to his shoulder. It was beyond wishful thinking, and yet the thought would not leave his head. He was attached to the marshal—not as attached as he was to the child, but more attached than he’d ever been to anyone else. It was going to be a problem, when it came time to leave.

Well, it wasn’t the first time Din had left his heart behind somewhere. This time, he just didn’t know how long it would take him to recover.

Armor back in place over his flightsuit—Din still wasn’t sure what miracle Cobb had performed to get it clean—he joined the other two in the kitchen. They both looked up as he entered, matching grins on their faces.

“Well, ain’t you a shiny sight,” Cobb drawled. “Bet you feel better all armored up again, huh?”

Din nodded, “Thank you, for cleaning the flightsuit.”

Cobb waved his hand in the air.

“It wasn’t any trouble. No harder than scrubbing blood out, and I’ve done that plenty over the years.”

Before Din could make any remark on the subject—and there were _a lot_ of them that he could make—Cobb was handing him the child, his little hands finding purchase on the familiar beskar chestplate. Din pat him on the head, the child cooing in response.

“I guess we’ll check in with Sami first,” Cobb said as he headed towards the door. “Mica—her husband—was one of the ones that didn’t make it back.”

“Alright,” Din said, following behind him. He stopped for a moment to grab his weapons, checking them over. They were all surprisingly undamaged, and Din holstered them. Cobb watched him throughout the process; it looked like he had something he wanted to say, but it never came.

“Ready?” Cobb asked once Din was fully rearmed.

“After you.”

Both of Tatooine’s suns had already risen, beating down upon them the moment they walked out of the house. Din could immediately tell a difference in the town from when he had first rode in. Children were playing in the street, laughing as they chased each other from one side to the other. Their parents kept an eye on them from where they talked and worked, but it now had the air of a general ‘make sure no one got hurt’ and not ‘my child could get eaten any second by a krayt dragon’. Cobb could see the difference too, if the way his smile grew was any indication.

“How many people live here?” Din asked, curious.

“Thirty-nine, including myself,” Cobb replied. “Not a whole lot of us, but we do our best.”

Din nodded, stopping with Cobb in front of one of the houses. Cobb knocked on the door and waited. After a few seconds with no response he tried again, brow furrowed.

“Sami?” he called. “You in there?”

There was a thump behind the door, and then it opened. The woman on the other side stared at them with bloodshot eyes, her clothes rumbled and hair pulled into a messy braid. Her whole appearance spoke of a night of too many tears and not enough sleep.

“Marshal,” she croaked, “sorry, I—”

“It’s alright, Sami,” Cobb said, setting a hand on her shoulder. “We just came by to check in, see if there was anything we could do for you.”

Sami looked at Din and the child, then turned her attention back to Cobb.

“I don’t—that is, I—” she shook her head and took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to go visit my aunt in Mos Espa. Stay with her for a while.”

Cobb nodded, “Of course. We’ll make sure to keep the sand swept from your door ‘til you get back.”

Sami smiled, though it was weak.

“Thank you, marshal. And you too,” she turned her attention back to Din. “We couldn’t have gotten rid of that beast without your help.”

Din bowed his head, “I do what I can.”

Sami nodded, then turned quickly back into her house, shutting the door behind her. Din decided not to acknowledge the tears he had seen gathering in her eyes.

They walked from the house without a word, Cobb waving to a few people as they did.

“I’m surprised,” Din muttered. “I thought she’d be angry at me.”

“How so?”

“Well, it was my plan that got her husband killed.”

Cobb shrugged, stopping in the shadow of a building and staring out into the dunes surrounding the town.

“The thing about the desert,” he said after a minute, voice low, “is that it takes and takes, and gives nothing in return. You live here long enough, you get used to it. You get into the habit of always preparing for the worst, because it’s going to happen, whether it’s now or next month or next year.”

Din said nothing, watching the emotions roll across the marshal’s face. Sorrow and exhaustion, and underneath it all, a deep ache of something that made him rub at his left shoulder blade. How long had the marshal worn that star-shaped scar? How often did it cause him pain?

Before Din could reply—what that reply was, he wasn’t sure—something shining amongst the dunes caught his attention. He frowned, raising a hand to his helmet and zooming in on the object. He only needed a second to recognize the shape of it—a gun was a gun, and that was definitely a gun barrel pointed in their direction.

“Kriff,” Din spun around and crowded Cobb against the wall, sandwiching the child between them and blocking the startled marshal with his body.

“Mando, what—”

A shot pinged off of Din’s pauldron, the sound echoing through the town. Cobb’s eyes widened in realization.

“Everybody inside!” he shouted. “Now!”

The people didn’t need to be told twice, children and adults scurrying into the safety of their homes. They were probably used to doing it, Din thought bitterly.

“Any idea who that could be?” Cobb asked, peaking over Din’s shoulder.

“No.”

“Great. What’s the plan?”

“Take the child, get inside.” Din said, passing the child over to Cobb.

“You know last time you told me to take care of your kid you got swallowed by a krayt dragon,” Cobb chuckled without humor, tucking the child against his chest.

Another shot hit the ground to Din’s left, sand spraying into the air.

“I’ll be fine, just go!”

Cobb nodded, dashing down the street and ducking into the first door he came to. Din turned, pulling the Amban rifle from his back and dropping to one knee in the same motion. He peered through the scope, watching the figure lying in the sand. Another shot thudded into the wall above his head. Whoever this was, they were a terrible shot.

Din adjusted his aim, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

Din was a much better shot.

He waited until the sand had settled around the body before he rose. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder and pulled his blaster pistol from its holster. He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Cobb glancing out from the house he had taken cover in.

“Target’s down,” Din called, “going to go take a better look. You stay here, check on your people.”

“Can do,” Cobb called back, giving Din a short salute.

Din jogged through the sand, all senses on alert as he approached the body. There was no sign of any other life, save for a small snake that slithered away on Din’s approach. Din stopped just short of the body and watched it for a moment. It was a Trandoshan, noticeably smaller than the ones Din had seen before. Din knelt down and flipped the body over so that it was face up. It wore a tattered black flightsuit under a gray cloak and a beaten up chestplate, the red paint scuffed and faded. The rifle was in similar condition, simple and worn down.

The main thing that got Din’s attention however was the constant beep of the tracking fob attached to it’s belt. Din swore and tore the fob free, flipping it over. He felt his stomach drop at the symbol imprinted on the back.

“Imperial,” Din hissed, snapping the fob in half. That answered the question of who they were after.

Din stood, beginning the trek back to town. He wasn’t sure what to do with the body; he’d have to ask Cobb.

He was half way back when a shot echoed up to him from the town. He broke into a sprint, cursing the sand as it sent him stumbling more than once. Din didn’t slow down when he entered the town proper, eyes scanning back and forth for the source of the shot.

“Over here.”

Din turned to the sound of Cobb’s voice. He was standing in the shadows between two buildings, blaster pointed at the body at his feet. As Din approached he could make out the shape of the child pressed close to Cobb’s chest. The marshal was turned so the child was shielded from the attacker by Cobb’s body.

“Are you alright?” Din asked.

“We’re fine,” Cobb said, turning a bit so Din could see the child better. “A bit shaken, maybe.”

Din nodded as the some of the tension eased from his shoulders. He knelt next to the body and examined it. A Rodian, dressed similarly to the Trandoshan, with another fob tied to its belt. Din snagged it, dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his boot as he stood.

“Friends of yours?” Cobb asked.

“No. These were Imperial.” Din clenched his fists at his side. “They’re after the child _._ ”

Cobb sighed, “I figured as much.”

The child warbled, reaching one arm out to Din. He walked forward and Cobb turned fully to face him. As Cobb tried to pass him over the child cried out, his hand gripping Cobb’s shirt as hard as he could. Din frowned and stepped closer, crowding into Cobb’s space similar to how he had just a few minutes before. This close he could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and their chests nearly brushed with each inhale. The child gripped Din's sleeve, cooing quietly. Din rubbed his fingers down the length of one of his ears.

“They want him because he can use the Force?”

“I don’t know. Probably? It’s hard to say.”

Cobb nodded, looking down at the child.

“Thank you,” Din said, voice quiet. “For keeping him safe.”

“Of course.”

Of course. As if it was as simple as breathing, putting himself between Din’s son and a bounty hunter.

Maybe to him it was.

After a minute Din wrapped his hands around the child’s body, attempting to pull him close. The child frowned, still gripping onto Cobb’s shirt.

“You have to let go, _ad’ika_. He’s got to go check on his people.”

The child whined.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Cobb assured, patting his back. “I’ll be right back _ad’ika_. Promise.”

His pronunciation of the Mando’a wasn’t perfect—he stressed the wrong part of the word—and yet Din’s heart stuttered all the same at hearing it pass from his lips.

“I, uh,” Cobb tittered, “I didn’t break another rule just now, did I?”

“No, no,” Din was quick to reassure.

“Okay, good.”

The child finally released his hold on Cobb’s shirt, turning to bury his face in Din’s chestplate instead. Din watched the marshal leave, then turned his attention to the child in his arms.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” he mused.

The child cooed, his ears drooping. Din leaned his back against the wall, listening to the sounds of the townspeople venturing back out of their homes. Cobb was reassuring them that the danger was over, that it was some rogue hunters, not Tuskens or raiders or slavers.

Din sighed and pushed off the wall. He headed to the marshal’s home, his heart breaking with every step.

It was time to leave.

The child babbled at Din, his tiny hands patting at his chestplate. Din hushed him, readjusting his hold as he opened the door to the marshal’s house. He paused just inside the doorway, looking around the space and committing every detail to memory. His feet moved without him realizing, taking him across the room to the chair he had sat in the night before. He sank into it once more, bowing his head.

It hurt.

He had left behind many places before; many people, too. It had never been easy, but now—now it felt like he was ripping his own heart from his chest.

But he had to do it.

Din shot to his feet, not giving himself anymore time to think. He grabbed the armor where it still sat bundled up against the wall and hoisted it over his shoulder. He opened the front door and nearly ran face first into Cobb.

“Woah there,” Cobb said, holding his hands up. His easy smile faded as he noticed the armor in Din’s hand.

“Leaving then?” he asked, voice softer.

“I have to,” Din cursed how rough his voice sounded. “I can’t put you—your people in anymore danger. The longer I stay, the more hunters will come.”

Cobb nodded, “I understand.”

The stood in silence for a moment, both unsure what to say. Cobb opened his mouth, probably to start a farewell, and Din cut him off.

“Come with us.”

Cobb’s face screwed up, several different emotions playing across his face in a manner of seconds.

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

Din’s voice cracked as he said it. He was shaking; fine, minute tremors that ran through his whole body.

Cobb ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ground.

“Is this about me training the kid?”

“It’s more than that.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes, either.”

Cobb looked up at Din and shook his head.

“I can’t leave. I’m sorry, Mando.”

“Din.”

Cobb furrowed his brow, head tilting to the side.

“My name,” Din continued, “it’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Cobb’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“Oh.”

Silence fell around them once more. Even the child was silent, watching the two of them.

“I,” Cobb started, “I can’t leave. But if you ever find yourself in need of a place to stay, or someone to keep an eye on the kid for a while, or anything else—you’re always welcome here, Din Djarin.”

Din’s heart sped up upon hearing his name from the other man. Cobb held his hand out to shake, and Din stared at it as he sat the armor on the ground. His own hand rose, but instead of meeting Cobb’s it went higher, cupping the back of his head. Din stepped closer and pulled Cobb to meet him the rest of the way. The marshal went with the motion, letting Din tip their foreheads together with a soft thud.

 _“Ni Ru'kel hokaanir tenn ner kar'ta ti a kal,”_ Din whispered _, “taap gar Tio'r bal gebbar ner shupur, ibac gar liser oyacyir ogir bal draar oyacyir o'r shol'shya.”_

“And what does that mean?” Cobb asked.

“It’s a promise.”

“What kind of promise?”

“The kind that will bring me back.”

Cobb hummed, his eyes slipping closed. Din let his own close as well, enjoying having the marshal so close. Din stroked his fingers through his hair, from the back of his head down to where it ended at his neck, pulling a shiver from the marshal.

“You’d better be on your way,” Cobb hushed. “Before you lose the daylight.”

Din nodded, dropping his hand and taking two steps back. Cobb grinned at him; it reminded Din of the weak smile Sami had given them earlier.

“Pull your speeder on over by the cantina,” Cobb continued, voice rising. “I’ll help you load up that hunk of dragon.”

“Thank you.”

Cobb nodded and turned on his heel, making his way to the cantina. Din picked the armor up and followed him out, pausing only for a second to stare at their speeders parked next to each other. He sighed, placing the child in the bag sitting on his speeder. The child was silent, staring towards the cantina.

“I know, _ad’ika_.”

The armor was next, tied to the side of the speeder. Din couldn’t help but wonder what kind of Mandalorian it had belonged to. Had they lost the armor in battle? Or had they given it up for a life of peace, somewhere among the dunes?

Din shook the thoughts away, picking up the child’s bag and pulling the strap over his head. He pushed the speeder towards the cantina, steeling himself for the final goodbye.

Cobb was waiting for him just inside, the meat wrapped and sitting on the table behind him. The bartender glanced at Din as he entered, then sent a look to Cobb that Din couldn’t quite decipher. Cobb shook his head, and Din wondered what conversation they had had while he was securing the armor.

“Leaving us so soon, friend?” the bartender called.

“Yes.”

“I see. Well, the door is always open here.”

Din bowed his head slightly and turned to Cobb. The marshal lifted the meat without a word, carrying it out to Din’s speeder. Din followed him, feeling the Weequay’s eyes trail behind. They said nothing as they strapped the meat to the speeder, pulling the cords tight.

“Well,” Cobb said, “I guess I’ll see ya around.”

Din nodded. He had no more words; at least, none that weren’t pleading with the marshal to come with him. Cobb held his hand out once more. This time Din took it, gripping his wrist firmly. Cobb returned the hold, squeezing once before letting go.

“And I hope I’ll be seeing you too, _ad’ika_ ,” Cobb added, patting the child on the head.

The child chirped, tiny hand reaching up towards Cobb. Cobb grinned that same sad grin and took a step back. Din stood and watched him for a long moment before he turned and mounted the speeder. The child whined, and Din reached down, patting him on the head. The wind picked up around him, catching his cape and tossing it around him. He turned the engine on and took a deep breath, reaching for the handles.

“Wait.”

By all means, Din shouldn’t have been able to hear the marshal’s voice above the hum of the engine and the howl of the desert winds. Yet he did, and his hands froze just an inch from the handles. He turned his head, just enough to see Cobb from his periphery.

The marshal stood just as he had been, only the grin was now gone. In its place was a look of determination, his jaw set and eyes sharp. He took a step forward, then another, coming to stand beside Din. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Din in a way that made it feel like he was staring at him right through his helmet.

“I’ll need about an hour,” Cobb stated, “to get all my things together and say goodbye to everyone. Can you give me that?”

Din opened his mouth, then closed it. Tried again, clearing his throat.

“I can give you that.”

Cobb nodded and marched towards his house. Din watched him go, reaching blindly to turn off the engine of his speeder. A rasping noise caught his attention, and he turned to see the bartender standing outside the bar, laughing and shaking his head.

“You take care of our marshal now,” he said. “He’s a real good man.”

Din nodded, his mind reeling. He dismounted the speeder, leaving it parked in front of the cantina and walking back to Cobb’s house. He found the marshal in his bedroom, packing clothes into a worn duffel bag laying on the bed.

“Why did you change your mind?”

Cobb paused, his hands hovering over the bag. He sighed and turned to face Din.

“I’ve always tried to go with my gut when it came to makin’ big decisions. Instinct, the Force, whatever you want to call it, I’ve always tried to listen,” Cobb ran a hand through his hair. “I just needed someone to remind me of that, I guess. To tell me to stop thinkin’ and worryin’ so much and just do what I thought was right.”

“And is this what you think is right?”

Cobb huffed a laugh, “Let’s just say I’d be pretty miserable if I’d let you ride off into the sunset all on your own.”

Din nodded.

“Besides,” Cobb continued, resuming his packing, “way I see it, you’re gonna need all the help you can get, keepin’ your kid safe from the Imps.”

Din looked down at the child. He was watching him, ears flicking back and forth. He looked over at Cobb, then back to Din and chirped, tilting his head to the side.

“He’s coming with us, don’t worry,” Din assured. He wondered if either of them could tell how pleased saying that sentence made him. Judging by the child’s joyful shriek and Cobb’s bright smile, he didn’t doubt it.

It took a little over an hour for them to start the trek to Mos Eisley. The townspeople were sad to see their beloved marshal go, wishing him a safe trip and letting him know they would always welcome him back amongst hugs and handshakes. The children especially hated to see him go, all of them swarming around him and hugging tightly to his legs.

“We’ll come back to visit,” Cobb assured, patting one girl with a particularly strong grip on the back. “Won’t we?”

Din nodded. It would be a while before they returned, certainly, but if Cobb wanted to come back and visit, Din was all too happy to oblige.

They mounted their speeders, Cobb giving one last wave to the assembled townspeople before turning and grinning at Din.

“Race you there?”

Din grinned under his helmet and revved the engine of his speeder, the only warning he gave before he shot out across the sand. He could barely hear Cobb’s indignant squawk about ‘head starts’, and his grin grew. Cobb was quick to catch up, his speeder pulling up beside Din’s as Mos Pelgo disappeared into the dunes behind them.

For the first time in several years, Din was looking forward to what the future would bring.

_“So, you two heading out?”_

_Cobb looked at the bartender, confused._

_“No, just the Mandalorian.”_

_The Weequay gave him an exasperated look._

_“Marshal. Go with him.”_

_“I can’t just—”_

_“You can. We’ll be alright on our own.”_

_Cobb grit his teeth, staring at the wrapped up chunk of krayt dragon they had drug out of the cooler._

_“Vanth. You’ve always wanted off this rotten planet. Don’t let the chance slip by. Leave this place. Go see the stars! Don’t waste your whole life in a place like this. Besides, I know you like the man. And his kid.”_

_Any other conversation was cut off by Din walking through the door. The bartender gave Cobb a pointed look, and Cobb shook his head. He barely registered what they said to each other, lifting the dragon meat and carrying it out to Din’s speeder._

_Cobb’s words sounded hollow to his own ears, the farewell leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He could feel the discontent rolling off of Din as well, sorrow and heartache and longing clouding the Force around him. It wasn’t the first time Cobb had felt the longing coming off of the Mandalorian—in fact, Din had been projecting that particular emotion for most of the time they had been together. It was something Cobb had been feeling himself, since he had first seen Din standing in the cantina._

_Cobb sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he watched Din mount his speeder. He was at a crossroads, the future splitting before him. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath and reaching for the Force just as he had done with all the other big decisions he’d made in his life. It hadn’t led him wrong yet._

_He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the bartender clearing his throat behind him. He opened his eyes to see Din reaching for the handlebars of his speeder. The light from the suns bounced off his armor, creating a bright, golden glow around him. Something settled in Cobb at the sight, warm and peaceful._

_“Wait.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mando’a phrase that Din says is a translation of a poem by Ibn Hazm that reads “I would split open my heart with a knife, place you within and seal my wound, that you might dwell there and never inhabit another...” Coincidentally, this is also where the title of this work comes from!  
> I tried my best with the translation—it is not a direct word-for-word, since some of the words didn’t translate exactly, but I tried to use similar words. I read that quote the other day and thought it sounded like a poem a Mandalorian would write, so  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. The Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four is here, and we are officially in AU territory!  
> Also, I priced the beskar armor as accurately as I could based on information I pulled from the Star Wars RPG guide I have and what I could find on the internet.

The suns were just starting to set by the time they made it to Mos Eisley. Din led the way to Hangar 3-5, keeping one eye on the path while the other watched Cobb. The marshal was looking around them in a way that Din would have called wonder if he hadn’t noticed the tightness of his grip on the handles of his speeder bike.

“Been a while since I’ve been out this way,” Cobb muttered. “I forgot how crowded it was.”

Din had to agree. While not the biggest place he’d been to, Mos Eisley was a certain type of busy that set his teeth on edge.

“We won’t be here long,” Din assured.

“Right.” Cobb breathed, swinging his speeder out of the way of a Bantha.

Din was relieved to see the hangar door come into sight. Peli herself was nowhere to be seen, though her three droids were there, arguing amongst themselves. The _Razor Crest_ sat in the middle of the hangar and looked in much better shape—not perfect, but better. The child giggled from his place at Din’s side, as happy as he was to see the ship.

“Woah.”

Din turned to look at Cobb as he turned his speeder off. The marshal was staring at the _Razor Crest_ , eyes wide.

“She’s not much, but she’s got me through a lot of tough spots,” Din said, pride seeping into his voice.

“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“ _Razor Crest_.”

“ _Razor Crest_.” The reverent way Cobb said the name erased in doubt from Din’s mind of what Cobb thought about the ship.

Din dismounted his speeder, untying the armor from the side of it.

“Come on,” Din said, “I’ll give you a tour.”

Cobb dismounted his own speeder and followed Din up the ramp, his bag thrown over his shoulder. His eyes flicked back and forth, trying to take in everything at once. The ship was a bit cluttered, for sure; Din hoped the marshal wasn’t claustrophobic.

“This is the carbonite system,” Din explained, gesturing to the panel built into the wall on the right. “It’ll freeze anything in a matter of seconds.”

Cobb nodded.

Din bypassed the ladder, tapping one of the controls on his vambrace to open the weapon storage. Cobb’s eyes went even wider, his jaw dropping slightly at the sheer number of weapons inside.

“Weapon storage,” Din said simply, placing the bundled armor on an empty shelf.

“That’s a lot of firepower,” Cobb muttered. He reached out as if he was going to pick up one of the weapons, then seemed to catch himself, his hand freezing midair.

Din gestured towards the weapons, “Go ahead.”

Cobb looked at him and grinned, finishing the movement and grabbing one of the blasters. He turned and aimed at the open ramp, looking through the sights and whistling lowly.

“Something tells me you’ve got all sorts of fun toys stashed here,” Cobb drawled, turning and replacing the weapon. He reached for one of the longer rifles Din kept, grazing his fingers along the barrel.

“It helps to be prepared for anything.”

Cobb nodded, “I can appreciate that.”

The marshal stepped back, and Din closed the storage. Already his mind was turning, going through the mental list of weapons he had and trying to determine which ones Cobb would want to use. He already had his blaster, but it wouldn’t hurt for him to carry a bit more firepower.

“Upstairs then?” Cobb asked, glancing at the ladder.

Din nodded, shelving the line of thought for later. Cobb scurried up the ladder, eager grin still in place. Din found himself grinning as well; the _Razor Crest_ was his home, after all. For Cobb to be so eager to see it—to be enjoying what he saw, as far as Din could tell—made a certain joy bubble up inside of him.

He realized, suddenly, that it was going to be Cobb’s home now, too. Cobb was here, with him, in his ship. Cobb was _with him._

Din stopped at the top of the ladder, needing a moment to process the realization. Cobb had come with him. Had left behind Mos Pelgo, his home, to come and be with Din and the child, navigating the universe and all the dangers within it. He had chosen to be with Din.

“Din?”

Din inhaled sharply, looking up at Cobb. The marshal was watching him from the floor above, brow creased.

“Ya alright?”

“Yes,” Din croaked, and cleared his throat. “Yes, just—”

Din tilted his head to the side, thinking. He wasn’t used to talking with other people, especially about what was going on inside his head. He decided honesty was the best approach, and climbed the rest of the way up the ladder so he was standing in front of Cobb.

“It’s still sinking in,” he said softly. “The fact that you came with us. That you’re _here_.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Not regretting it, are you?”

It was meant to come out as teasing; it didn’t.

Cobb shook his head, “No, I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t certain about it.”

“Okay.”

Cobb’s face softened, and he stepped forward, placing his hand on Din’s shoulder. A wave of calm washed over Din from the contact, easing the tension from him.

“Hey, I’m here for the long haul, however long that might be.”

Din nodded. He lifted his hand, placing it over Cobb’s on his shoulder. Neither of them said anything, the quiet sound of their breathing filling the space. Din slowly curled his fingers until he was holding Cobb’s hand in his. The warmth from his hand permeated his glove. Cobb swallowed, opening his mouth to speak.

“Hey, Mando! Where are you?”

They both jumped, startled by the loud voice echoing through the ship. The child trilled, wiggling in the bag at Din’s hip.

“Peli,” Din said, sighing.

“Someone you know?”

“This is her hangar.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Din turned and began climbing down the ladder. He stopped halfway down, looking up at Cobb.

“Go through the door on your left,” he said, “that’s where the sleeping compartment is. You can set your bag in there.”

“Can do.”

Din watched him go, then climbed the rest of the way down the ladder.

“Mando? That you?”

Din made his way to the ramp, unsurprised to see Peli standing at the bottom, her arms crossed.

“Finally,” she snapped, throwing her arms up. “You could have just said something, you know.”

Din shrugged. The child squeaked, holding his arms out towards Peli.

“Now there’s the one I was really wanting to see!”

Din twisted the bag around to his front, lifting the child out and handing him to Peli. She smiled, bouncing him against her hip.

“Did you go on an adventure? See all the sights?” She turned her attention back to Din. “Well? How’d it go? You find your Mandalorian friend?”

“Yes...and no.”

Peli scrunched her nose, “An’ what is that supposed to mean?”

Din tilted his head to the side, unsure of how to start explaining what had happened. The sound of boots on metal grabbed his attention, and he tilted his head to see Cobb walking down the ramp.

“Ah. So is he the yes or the no?”

“Both.”

Peli rolled her eyes, “You are absolutely no help.”

Cobb stopped beside Din, charming smile in place.

“Howdy. I suppose you must be Peli.”

“That’s right,” Peli said, giving Cobb a once over. “Peli Motto.”

Peli held her free hand out and Cobb took it, shaking it firmly.

“Cobb Vanth. Pleasure to meet you.”

Peli hummed, looking between Cobb and Din.

“So, you Mandalorian too?” she asked after a few seconds, tilting her head towards Din.

“No, ‘fraid not.”

“Is that so? How’d you get tangled up with these two then?”

“Ah well,” Cobb glanced at Din, “that’s a long story.”

“We killed a krayt dragon together.”

Peli blinked, “Oh, is that all.”

Din nodded and gestured to the meat still sitting on his speeder.

“I brought some back with me; you can have it as payment for working on the _Crest_.”

Peli looked at the meat and nodded, “Alright, boys, you heard the man. Hop to it!”

The three droids scrambled to the speeder, tripping over each other in their enthusiasm. Din watched them begin to untie the meat, then turned his attention back to Peli.

“Would you be able to watch the kid for an hour or two? We’ve got another errand to run.”

“We do?” Cobb asked.

Peli looked between the two of them, one eyebrow raised.

“Well watching this little one is no hardship,” she readjusted her hold on the child as she said it. “You gonna be back before dark or?”

“We should be.”

“Well you better get going then, you’re losing light!” Peli made a shooing motion with her hand, turning to where her droids were still trying to get the meat off the speeder.

Din took that as his cue and headed towards the hangar door. Cobb was quick on his heels, sending a cheerful goodbye to the child.

“So what mystery errand are we off to?” Cobb asked.

“We need to get you some armor,” Din answered. “I know someone here who should have some for a decent price.”

“Like,” Cobb sent a quick glance up and down Din’s person, “like your kind of armor or?”

“No—at least its very unlikely he’ll have any beskar.” And that’d potentially be a whole other issue anyway. “But he should have some durasteel pieces at least.”

“Guess I’m probably not gonna find another jetpack, huh?” Cobb lamented.

Din grinned at Cobb’s pout. “Doubtful.”

“A shame. I really liked that thing.”

Din hummed, ducking down a side street. It wouldn’t be impossible to find Cobb a replacement jetpack; only difficult, and likely expensive. Very expensive.

The shop they entered was indistinguishable from the others lining the street, a sand-worn sign hanging above the door that read “Zawvitor’s Arms and Armor”. Only one other customer was inside, a Duros browsing a collection of blades in a locked case. Din scanned the shop, his eyes finally spotting the top of two pale orange lekku behind a set of shelves. He walked over, turning the corner to see a Twi’lek teenager organizing bottles on the bottom shelf.

“Hello, Alazcava.”

The teen twisted her head around, her eyes brightening as she saw Din. She stood and rushed forward, taking his hands in hers with a smile.

“Mando! It is so good to see you again. How have you been?”

Din grinned, gently taking his hands back. “Shot at. A lot. How have things been here?”

“Busy, very busy. Here, let me go get father. He will be so happy to see you again!”

Alazcava sprinted towards the back of the store, disappearing through a door.

“Who was that?” Cobb asked incredulously from his place behind Din.

“Her name is Alazcava. I,” Din glanced at the Duros and stepped closer to Cobb, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I rescued her, a couple years ago. She had been kidnapped by a business rival of her father’s and was going to be sold as a slave. I happened to be in the area, and her father tracked me down, offered a reward if I could get her back. And I did.”

Cobb nodded. Din hadn’t missed the way his entire body tensed when Din mentioned her almost being sold as a slave. Din reached out, brushing his fingers against the back of Cobb’s hand. He thought about the way he had felt calmed by Cobb’s touch on the ship earlier, and the way the child always seemed to know when he was upset, and tried to think about calm and comfort. He ended up remembering the Keldabe kiss they had shared in Mos Pelgo—and Din had _kissed Cobb without him knowing_ , he’d have to deal with that thought later—and the warm affection he had felt then.

It had the intended effect: the tension eased from Cobb with a shuddering exhale. Cobb turned his hand and laced their fingers together. Din froze for a second in surprise, then relaxed, enjoying the warmth from Cobb’s hand through his glove. He marveled at how well their hands fit together, at how perfect Cobb’s fingers fit between his, how their palms lined up like they were meant to be pressed together.

“Thanks,” Cobb whispered. “Didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

“I don’t. It just—felt right.”

Cobb nodded. Alazcava reappeared then, an older Twi’lek following her. One crimson lekku was wrapped around his neck, the other trailing down his back.

“Mando, my friend! It has been too long,” the older Twi’lek boomed, coming forward and extending a hand. Din had to release Cobb’s hand to take it, his grip around his forearm as strong as he remembered.

“Zawvitor. I hope you have been well.”

“As well as can be expected. Now tell me, what has brought you back to my doorstep? I highly doubt you’re in need of any armor, just look at all that beskar! Beautiful!”

Din grinned. Zawvitor was just as enthusiastic as his daughter, and their mirth was contagious.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Zawvitor turned to Alazcava, switching to Twi’leki. Din didn’t know much of the language, though he was able to pick out the word for armor. Alazcava nodded and headed back to the room they had come from as Zawvitor turned back to them.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

Din turned and gestured to Cobb.

“I was hoping you might have something for my,” Din paused. What did he call Cobb? His friend? Partner? _Partner?_

 _“Vod,”_ is what ended up leaving his mouth, the Mando’a easy to fall back on to. He caught sight of Cobb’s confused stare from the corner of his vision, obviously wondering what it was Din had just called him.

“Certainly!” Zawvitor turned his attention to Cobb. “What are we looking for, hm? Chestplate, vambraces, greaves?”

“You got anything that matches him?” Cobb asked, gesturing to Din.

“Well,” Zawvitor drew out the word. Alazcava came back at that moment, four bundles in her arms. She set them down on the counter by the back door, starting to unwrap them as Zawvitor led them over.

“These came through about a few months ago. The guy who sold them to me refused to say where he got them; he seemed pretty shifty. It’s the real deal though, I checked.”

The first bundle was unwrapped, Alazcava placing the item on the counter. Din froze, watching the light bounce off the pauldron. A _beskar_ pauldron, unadorned save for a streak of bright red painted down the center. He glanced at Cobb and found him similarly shocked. The other three bundles were unwrapped to reveal a matching pauldron and a pair of vambraces, the same bright red streak down the center of each one.

“Please, take a look,” Zawvitor said. “I’ve been keeping them locked up in the back until you came through again; it didn’t seem right, to sell it to anyone else.”

Din picked up one of the vambraces, holding it up to the light. A single seam ran down the outer edge of it; upon closer inspection, Din could see the tiny mechanisms of a retractable blade housing. He traced the seam until he found the manual release, pressing it and extending the blade. The blade was thin, the side close to the vambrace flat while the blade’s edge was a gentle curve; each end was a wicked point. A blade both for slicing and stabbing.

“Such beautiful work,” Alazcava said, awe coloring her voice.

Din retracted the blade and reached for the other vambrace. The same seam ran along the same edge, and Din extended that blade as well. It snapped out, and Din held the vambrace closer to his visor.

“These haven’t seen combat,” he said, retracting the blade.

“Like I said, the man wouldn’t say where he got them. He seemed pretty eager to get rid of them, that’s for sure,” Zawvitor shrugged.

Din frowned, handing the vambrace to Cobb for him to examine. He picked up the pauldrons, giving them the same inspection. They were beskar, no doubt about it.

They were also void of any sort of clan indicator.

Din turned the pauldrons over, watching the light bounce over the metal. No clan markings, no armorer’s signature—nothing but the red stripe.

Din turned his head to Cobb. The other man was still holding the vambrace, moving it back and forth in his hands, careful of the seam where the blade hid.

“Try it on.”

Cobb looked at him, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

“You sure?”

Din nodded once. Cobb turned back to the vambrace, staring at it for a few seconds before holding it out to Din.

“Help me with it? I don’t wanna accidentally activate the blade.”

Din swallowed and nodded once more, taking the vambrace. He thought back to one of the first lessons he had been given about beskar—about how important it was, not just as protection, but as a part of who they were as Mandalorians.

_“Your armor is not a part of you—it is you. It is your body, and it houses your soul.”_

Din had only ever seen one Mandalorian marriage. He remembered it clearly though—the two polished suits of beskar standing proud before the assembled crowd. They had exchanged their right vambraces at the end of their vows.

_“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”_

Din slipped the vambrace around Cobb’s forearm and adjusted the straps to fit snugly. There were no words said: the four of them all watched in silence, the Duros having left the store at some point. The air felt heavy, as if even it was watching what was going on. Cobb was staring at him, unblinking, and Din flushed under his helmet. Cobb had probably caught wind of his thoughts; hopefully he wouldn’t question why Din was thinking about marriage while he fit the vambrace to his arm.

Or maybe hopefully he would. Din wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore.

_“When you court someone, you are asking them to join with you, body and soul. Therefore, it is important you show them all you have to offer: gifts that show you can both provide protection on the battlefield, and a home off of it.”_

There was no way around it: Din _wanted_ to court the marshal. He _wanted_ to fight side by side with him, _wanted_ to build a home with him. He _wanted_ , like he had never wanted anything else in his life, and it was like a sucker punch straight through his chest.

Judging by the way Cobb was watching him—sharp, bright eyes, each breath measured—maybe he wanted it too.

Din stepped back. Cobb pulled his arm to his chest, his eyes staying on Din’s helmet for a few long seconds—it always felt like he was looking through the visor, like he was staring Din right in the eye—before dropping to admire the vambrace.

“The mechanism to release the blade should be in the top of the vambrace,” Din explained, pleased that his voice came out steady. “To activate it, you’ll need to do a sharp snapping motion with your hand. Once the blade is extended, you’ll do the same motion to retract it.”

Din held his arm out, curling his hand into a fist. He made a quick motion, tilting his hand back towards his arm. Cobb nodded, trying the motion himself. It took him three tries to perfect the movement, the blade snapping out from its housing. Cobb tilted his arm back and forth, watching how the light caught the blade. After a moment, he repeated the motion, the blade retracting smoothly into the vambrace.

Din turned to Zawvitor, “How much for all four pieces?”

Zawvitor hummed, his lekku twitching.

“For you my friend, we’ll put it at eight thousand credits.”

Din heard Cobb suck in a breath next to him.

“That is acceptable. We’ll need some other pieces as well; a chestplate or cuirass for sure, as well as a pair of thigh guards.” Din turned to address Cobb. “Do you want a helmet?”

Cobb stared at him, eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and he cleared his throat.

“Uh, it’s not necessary.”

Din tilted his head to the side, “But would you _like_ one?”

Cobb’s mouth twisted and after a moment he shook his head.

“Wasn’t really a fan of the one I had. I didn’t like having my peripheral vision cut off that much.”

Din nodded and turned to face Zawvitor where he was examining the armor pieces on a set of shelves on the other side of the room.

“I don’t suppose you happen to have a jetpack?”

Zawvitor shook his head, “No, nothing that fancy. Your best bet there is to try the Jawas, they always seem to have interesting items stashed away.”

Cobb snorted, “You have no idea.”

Din chuckled, the sound startling the both of them. Cobb looked at him, grinning.

“What do you think?” Din asked Cobb after a moment, gesturing to the armor pieces on the counter.

“I think I underestimated how much that armor was worth when I got it from the Jawas,” he muttered.

“Beskar is a very rare metal,” Din said. “It is one of the main reasons why Mandalorians are hunted across the galaxy. It is nearly indestructible—you’ve experienced that first hand, I’m sure.”

Cobb nodded, “I certainly have.”

Zawvitor returned with a cuirass in his hands, setting it on the counter. He spoke to Alazcava in Twi’leki, sending her to the back room once more. Din examined the cuirass: it was made of durasteel, not beskar, but was a solid piece regardless. It was painted a dark gray, three thin red stripes running down the right side from top to bottom. Alazcava returned a few seconds later, a pair of dark gray thigh guards in her hands. She set them next to the cuirass.

“Try them on, please,” she said, a wide grin stretching across her face.

Cobb stared at the assembled pieces of armor, eyes still wide. Din reached forward and picked up the cuirass, examining it before closing the distance between himself and Cobb. He said nothing, tilting his head to the side in silent question. Cobb nodded and Din lifted the cuirass, sliding it over Cobb’s head. It settled around his shoulders, and Din began tightening the straps on the sides. After a moment Cobb reached for the other vambrace, sliding it onto his arm and securing it. The same tension was lingering in the air, pressing against the two of them. Din adjusted the way the cuirass sat on Cobb’s torso, leaving his palm flat against the chestplate as he moved to his other side and fixed the straps on that side. He stepped back, walking a slow circle around Cobb. Cobb stood still as a statue, his eyes tracking every movement Din made. The cuirass fit him well, the durasteel plates snug against his body. A faint flush was crawling up Cobb’s neck, mirroring the warmth Din could feel gathering on his own cheeks. Din grabbed the pauldrons next, fitting them both over Cobb’s shoulders. As he finished attaching the last pauldron Din stepped back, examining Cobb once more. Cobb looked _good_ in armor, especially armor that fit properly and wasn’t in desperate need of repairs and a new coat of paint.

Cobb reached for one of the thigh guards, setting it against his thigh and making quick work of the straps. Din turned his head to the side in an effort to not blatantly stare at the marshal and his nice legs. The heat on Din’s cheeks increased, and he clenched his fists at his side, trying to think of anything else.

Din spun to where Zawvitor was leaning against the counter, speaking to Alazcava, “How much for all of it?”

“Nine thousand credits for everything,” he said after a moment.

Din nodded, glancing at Cobb over his shoulder. He had put on the second thigh guard and was staring down at himself, shifting back and forth. He raised his arms above his head, bending backwards slightly before straightening and dropping his arms, twisting his torso side to side.

What Din meant to ask was ‘how does it fit?’ or ‘do you need any other pieces?’.

Instead he asked softly, “Do you like it?”

Cobb turned his attention to him, a knowing look in his eye and yeah, he had _definitely_ been picking up on at least some of Din’s thoughts.

“I do.”

Din swallowed thickly and nodded, turning to Zawvitor.

“We’ll take all of it.”

Armor paid for and farewells said, they made their way back to Hangar 3-5, the last light of the day sinking below the horizon. Cobb kept rubbing his thumb down the red stripe on the left vambrace, staring at it thoughtfully.

The smell of cooked meat met them outside the hangar door. Din wasn’t sure what he expected to see as they entered—the dragon meat cooking on a spit set up behind one of the _Razor Crest’s_ thrusters was not it.

“Hey, just in time for dinner!” Peli called from her seat on a crate a few feet away from the spit. The child was in her lap, watching the meat with an intensity that would worry Din if he wasn’t already used to his voracious appetite.

“You know, if you had told me a week ago that I’d be eating krayt dragon for dinner, I’d have laughed in your face,” Cobb said.

“Yeah, our friend here is good about that kinda thing,” Peli said with a nod towards Din. She rose from her seat and walked to Din, handing the child to him.

“You hang on to the womp rat for a second, I’ll get some plates.”

“Womp rat?” Din muttered.

The child babbled at him, patting his shoulder. He turned his attention to Cobb, holding his arms out to him.

“Hey _ad’ika_ ,” Cobb said, voice fond as he reached out and pat the child on the head. He chirped, tiny fingers grasping at Cobb’s vambraces. He tilted his head back and forth, as if he didn’t understand how Cobb’s arm could change from flesh and blood to armor.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Cobb asked. “You like the new armor too? Your dad bought it for me.”

The child giggled, turning his attention back to Din as he snuggled against his chestplate.

“Thanks, by the way.”

Din tilted his head to the side, watching Cobb.

“For buying the armor. You didn’t have to do that, ya know.”

Din wasn’t sure what response to give to that. He looked down at the child, choosing his words carefully before he spoke.

“I didn’t have to, no. But I wanted to. I,” Din licked his lips. “I want to make sure you are protected.”

He glanced at Cobb. The marshal was staring at him as if he was searching for something—what that was, Din didn’t know. Cobb lifted his hand and wrapped it around Din’s bicep as he leaned forward, tapping his forehead against Din’s helmet. Din inhaled sharply, melting as he leaned into the touch. That same warm affection flooded through him; whether it came from him or Cobb or both of them, he wasn’t sure. They stood there for a few seconds, basking in each other’s presence before Cobb pulled back, a warm, easy smile on his face.

“So, dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few quick translations:  
> Vod - comrade  
> Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde - we are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors (traditional Mandalorian marriage vows)


	5. The Clan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took a bit longer, had some minor surgery that had me on my ass for a bit. But! Here we are with chapter 5!  
> As always, thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos, it makes my day every time I see them 💚

“Have you ever been off planet before?”

“Never. Always dreamed of it though.”

Din hummed as he continued to check the diagnostic readouts from the _Razor Crest_. Peli and her droids had outdone themselves, almost every system lighting up green. It was more than he could have hoped for.

Movement from his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned his head to see the knob on one of the levers slowly twisting, as if an invisible hand was trying to remove it. He turned further, unsurprised to see the child reaching out towards it, eyes closed. Din chuckled, reaching over and twisting the knob the rest of the way off. The child opened his eyes, tilting his head to the side and looking at Din.

“What’s that?” Cobb asked.

“His favorite toy,” Din answered, handing the knob to the child. He purred, rolling the ball in his hands.

“Is that so?”

Din nodded, turning back to the control panels. He double checked the status of the hyperdrive and, getting yet another positive reading, started the ship’s engines. They rumbled to life, sending a tremor through the ship.

“Ooh, woah, that’s different.”

Din turned to look at Cobb. His eyes were darting around the cockpit, hands gripping the armrests of his chair.

“It’ll be a bit...intense, until we exit the atmosphere,” Din warned. “Make sure you’re buckled in.”

Cobb nodded, taking a deep breath as he grabbed the seatbelt and buckled it. Din twisted and looked at the child, making sure he was still buckled in where Din had set him in the seat earlier.

“Alright, going up.”

The _Razor Crest_ lifted from the ground with a roar of thrusters. Din kept his hands steady on the controls, watching the scroll of data across the various panels: altitude, stability, thruster integrity. He began the sequence to retract the landing gear, listening to the faint mechanical hum from the belly of the ship. Satisfied, he turned the ship, angling it towards the night sky above.

“Ready you two?”

The child squeaked, Cobb giving less enthusiastic affirmative. Din engaged the main engines, sending them rushing towards the clouds. Din felt the drag on the ship as they punched through the layers of atmosphere, the ship rumbling and trembling as it kept climbing. Din glanced at the data readouts, making sure everything was still holding steady as the breached the atmosphere, breaking free of the planet’s gravity and into the vast emptiness of space. Immediately the shaking of the ship stopped, the rumble of the engines fading into a softer background sound.

“Dank _farrik_.”

Din turned at the soft exhalation and watched Cobb rise slowly from his seat, eyes wide with wonder.

“What do you think?” Din asked.

“I,” Cobb breathed, licking his lips. “I never imagined it would be like this. It’s so...big. And beautiful. I just—”

Cobb trailed off as he stopped beside Din’s chair. He kept his eyes on the starscape ahead of them, entranced.

Din couldn’t take his eyes off Cobb. As close as they were, he could see the stars reflecting in Cobb’s eyes; it was without question the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Din’s eyes flicked down to Cobb’s hand, hanging still at his side. Feeling bold Din reached out, taking the hand in his and lacing their fingers together.

Cobb looked down at him, his attention going first to their hands and then to Din’s helmet. He grinned, turning his attention back to the stars as he squeezed Din’s hand. The feeling of wonder Din had seen on Cobb’s face washed over him, so breathtaking and genuine that it made his head spin. With his free hand Din turned the ship, curving it around the planet until the twin suns began to peek out from the side of it. The wonder increased, Din’s breath catching in his lungs from the magnitude.

“Thank you,” Cobb whispered after a few minutes.

“Of course.”

Cobb squeezed his hand again, then released the hold and returned to his seat.

“So where are we headed to, Captain Djarin?” Cobb teased.

Din turned his focus to the navigational computer, trying and failing to ignore the way his heart jumped at hearing his name.

“Nevarro. We’ll be able to pick up a couple of jobs, get some credits. Get you used to your armor.”

A beat of silence, then, “What kind of jobs?”

Din’s hand paused in its typing. There was an odd edge in Cobb’s voice that Din couldn’t place.

“Bounty work. As for exactly what kind of bounty, that’ll depend on what’s available when we get there. Usually its bail jumpers, gangsters, thieves. Occasionally there’s bigger targets: crime lords, assassins.”

“So generally, pretty bad people.”

“Generally.”

Cobb hummed. Din glanced at him, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the faraway look in his eyes. He began to turn his attention back to the hyperdrive calculations, then thought better of it and spun his chair around to face Cobb.

“What’s on your mind?” Din asked.

Cobb said nothing for a few moments, his brow furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“You hear stories, on Tatooine. Bounty hunters that show up in the dark of night, breaking into people’s homes and stealing them away. Sometimes it was genuinely bad people, thieves and murders and the like. Most of the time...” Cobb sighed. “Most of the time it was just people who owed debts they had no hope of repaying, or who were stealing so their children didn’t starve, or who were slaves that had escaped and were just trying to live a decent life. Good people who had just run out of luck and run into the wrong people.”

Din frowned, “That sounds less like bounty hunters and more like gang enforcers.”

“Not much of a difference on Tatooine.”

Din started to speak, then paused. Thought about the star-shaped scar on Cobb’s back.

“We’ll see what bounties are available when we get there,” Din reiterated. “If there’s any that look good, we’ll take them. If there aren’t, we won’t. And if anything about any of it makes you uncomfortable, tell me. We’ll work it out.”

Cobb stared at him, the some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Din nodded. The nav computer beeped at him, letting him know the calculations were complete. He spun his chair back around, checking over the calculations on last time before gripping the lever for the hyperdrive and pulling it back. The stars blurred around them until they were surrounded by streaks of darkness and light.

“Kriff, that’s—that is something.”

Din chuckled and spun to face Cobb, “Welcome to hyperspace, the best way to travel the galaxy. It’ll only take us a couple of days to get to Nevarro this way.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you suggest we spend those couple of days?”

There was a very obvious implication in Cobb’s voice, and Din felt his cheeks heat. Cobb smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

“Well, I imagine we’ll sleep at some point,” Din choked out.

Cobb laughed, the sound echoing through the cockpit. Din was glad he was still sitting, for how weak his knees were and how hard his heart pounded at the sound.

The child trilled from where he sat, drawing both of their attention. He smiled, his ears wiggling up and down.

“Well, I suppose I could spend the time working with you, huh,” Cobb drawled, standing and grabbing the child from his seat. The child giggled, holding the knob out to Cobb.

“Why thank you,” he drawled, taking the knob. He looked around the cockpit, stepping behind the chairs and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Whew, it’s a bit cold down here, huh?” Cobb said, shifting in place. “Don’t suppose your dad has a blanket or something stashed away somewhere, does he?”

Din rose wordlessly, stepping around them and heading to the sleeping compartment. He snatched the thick brown blanket from the end of his bunk, noticing that Cobb had thrown his bag on to the top bunk. Din stared at the bag for a few seconds before heading back to the cockpit. It still seemed like a sort of fever dream, that Cobb had come with them.

Cobb took the blanket gratefully, standing and spreading it out on the floor before sitting back down. He set the child down across from him, booping him on the nose.

“So, have you ever meditated before, kiddo?” he asked.

The child cooed, tilting his head to the side. He looked down at himself, shifting around until he was mirroring Cobb’s cross-legged position.

“That’s good,” Cobb praised, straightening his back. “Now, just sit and focus your mind. Let it guide you.”

Cobb took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a few seconds the child’s eyes slipped closed as well. Din watched them, the slow rise and fall of each breath they took. After a few minutes he rose from his chair, crossing the cockpit to where they sat. He knelt on the edge of the blanket between the two of them, his legs tucked under his body and hands in his lap. He took a deep breath, letting his chin drop to his chest.

“Have you ever meditated before?” Cobb’s voice came softly a minute later, his eyes remaining closed.

“Yes. Growing up, we were taught that our mind was just as important a weapon as our body. We were taught how to meditate so we could learn focus and mindfulness.”

It was one of his fonder memories, kneeling with the other foundlings before and after combat training, focusing on the lessons of the day. He had always found a certain kind of peace in it, a kind of mental silence that he rarely found elsewhere.

Cobb hummed, “I didn’t have anyone to teach me how to meditate. I just kinda—did it, lots of trial and error. It’s easier to connect to the Force this way.”

They fell back into silence. They stayed that way for several minutes, before Din felt something brush against the side of his helmet. He opened his eyes, glancing at the other two. Neither of them had moved, and as he watched he felt the presence brush against his helmet once more before moving down. As it went, Din got the vague impression of a hand, calloused fingers trailing down the side of his neck. It settled against his chest, pressing lightly before fading.

Din closed his eyes, waiting. A few seconds passed, and then the feeling was back, curling around his right bicep. Din took a deep breath and extended his mind, imagining his own hand reaching out and grasping the presence. He was flying blind, unsure if he was even doing anything—and then the presence was wrapping around him, all-encompassing and brilliant and _familiar_.

_Cobb._

There was a spark in the back of Din’s mind, like a star going supernova, and then the presence was _there_ , in his mind, sharing the space with him. All the breath left Din in a rush. It was like basking in the sun after spending months in the darkness of winter, bright and warm. There was a burst of emotion, first surprise and then uncertainty, that most definitely did not come from Din. Din let the foreign emotions roll over him, soaking them in before pressing back with his own emotions—confusion, curiosity, acceptance. The presence in his mind shuddered, joy blooming across the connection.

Din opened his eyes to find Cobb staring at him from where he was sitting. Their eyes locked through the barrier of Din’s visor, and Din felt his heart rate increase. Cobb grinned, the joy in Din’s mind increasing until it morphed, turning into something softer, something that made Din’s breath catch in his throat and his hands clench into fists. Affection, pure and warm, melted through him.

_“Cobb,”_ Din gasped.

_“Din,”_ Cobb whispered, and Din heard it in his ears and in his mind.

Cobb’s presence faded from his mind, pulling back like a caress and leaving Din dizzy and off-kilter. He wobbled where he knelt, one of his hands snapping out to steady himself. A thump to his right drug his attention to Cobb, and he found him to be in a similar state.

“What,” Din licked his lips, “what was that?”

“I don’t know,” Cobb said between breaths. “I’ve never done anything like that before. It just—happened.”

Din frowned, unsure of what to do with that information. His mind was slowly piecing itself back together, trying to adjust to being alone once more. He turned his attention to the child to see him still meditating, seemingly unbothered by what they were doing.

Cobb sighed, scooting over until he was sitting next to Din. He ran a hand through his hair, tilting to the side until he was leaning against Din, his head resting on his shoulder. Din moved from his kneeling position to sitting, stretching his legs out in front of them.

“Sorry,” Cobb said. “I didn’t mean to—yeah.”

Din tilted his head to see Cobb’s face. He was looking up at Din, cheek pressed into Din’s pauldron. Din leaned down, pressing his helmeted forehead to Cobb’s as he gathered his thoughts.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t bad, just…new. Unexpected.”

Cobb hummed, his eyes falling closed.

“What is this?” Cobb asked after a minute.

“What is what?”

“This,” Cobb lifted his hand, gesturing to where their foreheads were touching. “We’ve done it twice now, and I can tell there’s something significant to it, but...”

Din tensed out of instinct, then forced himself to relax.

“It is called a Keldabe kiss. It’s a way for Mandalorians to show affection, even when fully armored. It is a...very intimate act, among my people.”

“Oh. So it’s a—oh.”

Din said nothing. Cobb opened his eyes, looking up at Din.

“So when you were preparing to leave Mos Pelgo, you kissed me goodbye?”

Din nodded, heat creeping up his cheeks.

“What was it you said to me, back then? The promise you made.”

Din shifted slightly, “It’s a line from an old Mandalorian poem. It roughly translates to: I would split open my heart with a knife, place you within and seal my wound, that you might dwell there and never inhabit another.”

“Wow. That’s…intense.”

“Most Mandalorian poems are.”

A pause, then, “Can you teach it to me? The language, that is.”

“You want to learn Mando’a?”

“If that’s okay?”

Din hummed, thinking. There was nothing in the Creed against teaching Mando’a to a non-Mandalorian. Then again, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Cobb was walking the path to becoming a Mandalorian anyway.

“I can teach it to you,” he said. “It’s actually a fairly simple language to learn.”

“It can’t be any harder than Huttese,” Cobb grimaced.

“You speak Huttese?”

“A lot of people on Tatooine do. Especially if you were…” he trailed off, his eyes becoming distant.

Din knew what he was thinking about. If Cobb didn’t want to talk about it though, that was his choice. Din focused on the spot where their foreheads touched, sending understanding and patience to him.

“You’re getting better at that,” Cobb muttered, grinning.

“I’ve been getting a lot of practice.”

Cobb nodded, his eyes focusing on a spot on the wall across from them.

“I was a slave, growing up,” he said after a few minutes, voice tight. “My mother was a slave, so when I was born, I became one too. And I stayed one until I was thirteen, when I managed to buy my freedom.”

Din lifted his arm, wrapping it around Cobb’s shoulders.

“My mother died when I was three,” Cobb continued. “Her spirit just—gave out. She had been a slave for over twenty years.”

Cobb turned his head, burying his face in Din’s shoulder. Fine tremors wracked his body. Din pulled him closer, rubbing his thumb in the space between Cobb’s neck and armored shoulder.

“My parents were killed when I was a child,” Din whispered. “They gave their lives to hide me from droids that were attacking our home. A Mandalorian found me and took me in shortly afterwards.”

It was a very abridged version, yet Din struggled to get just those few sentences out.

“So you were not born a Mandalorian?”

“No, I was a foundling. Just like he is,” Din pointed to the child still meditating to their left.

“Are you going to raise him as a Mandalorian then?”

Din didn’t have an immediate answer to that, duty and selfishness warring within him. He had his mission to complete—to reunite the child with his people. But he had done that, hadn’t he? He had found Cobb, had found someone to raise and train the child in the ways of the Force. The fact that they were both with him—that he hadn’t had to give his son to a stranger, that he had Cobb at his side—was just an extremely nice bonus. It felt like cheating—felt too easy, too good an outcome.

Perhaps it was time something good happened in his life.

“I will raise him as my son,” Din finally said. “So yes.”

“He’s lucky to have you as a father.”

“He has you now, too,” Din said carefully, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

Cobb smiled, pushing himself up and walking over to where the child was.

“I always wanted to be a dad,” Cobb said. “Didn’t think I’d be raising someone quite like him, but hey, what can ya do?”

He knelt next to the child, patting him gently on the back. The child opened his eyes and looked up at Cobb, trilling and lifting his arms. Cobb picked him up, holding him to his chest.

“How’d it go, _ad’ika_?”

The child babbled happily at him, patting his hands against Cobb’s chestplate. Cobb’s smile grew, and Din felt himself smiling to mirror it as he stood and returned to his chair.

“You ready to try some more practical stuff? It’ll be fun, I promise.”

The child tilted his head to the side, his ears flicking. Cobb chuckled and set him back down on the blanket, moving to retake his seat across from him. He pulled the silver knob from his pocket, holding it out in his open palm.

“You remember the egg, right? Can you do it again with this?”

The child warbled, staring at the knob in Cobb’s hand. He looked to Din and cooed.

“Go ahead,” Din encouraged. “You can do it.”

The child turned back to Cobb, lifting one of his arms. After a few seconds the knob flew into his hand, a silver blur moving across the room.

“There, see? I knew you could do it,” Cobb praised. He wiggled his fingers, his palm still extended. “Can you give it back to me?”

The child giggled, and the knob shot across the space. It landed in Cobb’s hand with a loud smack, and Din winced behind his helmet.

“Wow, that’s,” Cobb hissed, dropping the knob as he shook his hand. “You got some power there, _ad’ika._ Let’s try maybe going a bit slower, yeah?”

The child tilted his head to the side, looking at Cobb’s hand, then the knob on the floor. He chirped, holding both his hands out and making a grabby motion. Cobb picked the knob back up, rolling it between his fingers. He let it go and it hovered in the air, crossing the distance between him and the child at a much slower pace. It landed softly in his outstretched hands, and the child giggled again.

“Can you do it like that?”

The child rolled the knob between his hands, babbling cheerfully. He turned his attention back to Cobb after a moment, holding the knob out to him. It left his hands, bobbing through the air towards Cobb at a pace still faster than Cobb’s but much slower than his first attempt. It dropped into his waiting hand, and the child squeaked.

“Good job,” Cobb praised, smiling widely.

Din watched them continue to pass the knob back and forth from his seat, a gentle warmth blooming in his chest. This was his family—his _aliit_. It was something he had never expected to have; dreamed of, certainly, in the darkest hours of night. To have a _riduur,_ an _ad,_ people he _loved_ and who loved him in turn. The warmth rose into an inferno, all consuming and leaving him gasping.

“Din? Are you okay?”

Din refocused enough to see Cobb and the child’s attention on him, matching expressions of concern on their faces. Din opened his mouth to answer, only to stop when he realized he could taste salt.

He was crying.

Cobb rose from his spot on the floor and walked to where Din was sitting, his hands covering Din’s where they were clenched in his lap.

“Darling? What’s wrong?”

_Darling._

Din wrapped his arms around Cobb’s waist, pulling him close. There were too many emotions flitting through his mind for him to sort through, like a thousand butterflies had been loosed inside.

_“Cyar’ika,”_ he mumbled after few seconds, one hand lifting to cup the back of Cobb’s head and press their foreheads together.

“Hm? What’s that?”

“It is,” Din cleared his throat, “it is a term of endearment. Like beloved, or darling.”

_“Cyar’ika,”_ Cobb said, as if he was tasting the word. 

Din felt the brush of Cobb’s mind against his own. He grasped at it, and this time he was prepared for the supernova-spark of connection. He was not prepared for the veritable wall of emotion that hit him, affection and warmth and so much love he felt like he could drown in it. His eyes slipped closed, and he let his own emotions tangle with Cobb’s, the deep ache of love he felt for Cobb and for the child, for his clan.

His clan of three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some translations:  
> Aliit - family/clan/tribe  
> Riduur - partner/spouse (was going more for the partner route here)  
> Ad - child  
> Cyar’ika - term of endearment like darling/beloved/sweetheart


	6. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I am so sorry that this chapter took so long to come about. The original idea I had for the plot just didn’t pan out, so I had to scramble to find a new direction to take the story. Thank you all so much for being patient with me.

Nevarro had changed in the time Din had been gone. The streets had been cleared of the signs of battle, debris removed and blaster marks scrubbed away. In fact, the city seemed livelier than ever, people milling about in the streets and sitting on doorsteps, talking and playing games.

“Huh, it’s very...gray,” Cobb commented from where he stood on the ship’s ramp behind Din.

Din shrugged, “Millenia of volcanic activity will do that.”

Cobb hummed, stepping forward to stand at Din’s side. He nudged the side of his vambrace against Din’s, the beskar ringing softly between them. It was something new that Cobb had started doing, similar to the Keldabe kisses they had been sharing yet smaller, softer somehow. Din pressed back, twisting his head to look at Cobb.

Cobb had taken to his new armor like a second skin, taking the time to clean and polish his it while they were in hyperspace. The beskar and durasteel shone softly in the dim light of morning Nevarro, the red stripes bright in amongst all the gray. It was beautiful— _he_ was beautiful. The armor hugged his body in all the right ways to protect _and_ to catch Din’s eye, all sharp edges and gentle curves. Not to mention the surge of pride he felt whenever he looked at him—that was _his_ gift Cobb was wearing, _he_ was protecting Cobb.

Din sighed softly and pushed the thoughts to the side. They were here for a reason, and it wasn’t Din standing around admiring Cobb. With a glance at the sleeping child floating behind them in his pram, Din led them into the city.

Din could feel eyes follow them as they walked down the main street towards the Guild’s headquarters, though no one made any outward signs of recognition—no one called out to him, no one rose to greet him. It was a relief in its own right; an uncomfortable tension had gathered in Din’s gut as they had entered the planet’s atmosphere, and it was slowly working itself loose as they were mostly ignored. He wasn’t naïve; he knew not everyone had forgiven him for his rescue—or theft, depending on who you asked—of the child.

“So this is where you lived, right?” Cobb asked with a gentle, curious nudge against Din’s mind, his eyes panning across the line of buildings to their right. That was another thing they had worked on while in hyperspace, developing whatever this mental bond between them was. Cobb had said it must have been something Force related; other than that, they were both flying blind.

“Not on street level, no. My covert lived in the tunnels underneath.”

“Under—” Cobb’s gaze dropped to the road under their feet.

“Yes. There’s a vast tunnel network under the city, stretching out a few miles past it’s borders.”

Cobb grunted. Din waited, knowing that the marshal had something on his mind from the frown pulling at his lips.

“Can I—I mean, will you show me? The tunnels?”

Din stopped. Cobb stopped too, turning to face Din. Din felt his mind brush up more insistently against his own, and he let Cobb in, let him see the tangle of emotions Din himself could barely work through when he wasn’t outright ignoring them. Grief, fear, guilt—it was something that Din had been ignoring for months, since he had stumbled across the Armorer melting down the armor of his fallen _vod_ while trying to flee the city. No—even before that, when the Tribe had come to his aid in rescuing the child, exposing themselves to ensure his and the child’s safety.

Cobb made a low sound in the back of his throat, taking a step forward and bumping his forehead to Din’s helmet. Sympathy curled around Din, giving him the mental impression of Cobb wrapping his arms around Din and pulling him into a hug.

Din sighed, leaning physically into the Keldabe kiss and mentally into the embrace.

“Come on, the entrance is this way,” he whispered, pulling back and turning towards a side street.

Cobb wordlessly fell into step beside him, though the mental presence stayed tucked around Din. Din tried to dismantle the jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions in his mind, for Cobb’s benefit as much as his own. He needed to do this, needed to see if anything was left. Doing it with Cobb at his side would hopefully ease the inevitable pain and nightmares to come.

The burgundy cloth was still hanging over the doorway, fluttering in the breeze as they approached. Din’s steps didn’t falter, though the knot of tension in his gut grew, spreading up and clogging his throat. He pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the darkness, his helmet switching to night vision automatically. Muscle memory guided him down the stairs, his boots tapping loudly against the stone. There was no distant roar of the forge; no muffled shouting of a spar; no happy cheers of foundlings eager to see him returned.

Din made it three steps from the bottom of the stairs before he broke.

A tremor ran through his body, knocking the breath out of him. Cobb was at his side in an instant, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together.

“It’s...” Din gasped, “it’s so _quiet_.”

Cobb stepped in front of him, his other hand raising and slipping under where Din’s cloak wrapped around his neck, pressing against the back of his neck. Din sucked in a breath; Cobb’s hand was warm and rough with callouses.

“I’m right here,” Cobb whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Din nodded stiffly, his hand covering Cobb’s against his neck. He was still shivering as he tilted his head forward, resting it against Cobb’s shoulder.

“Do we need to leave?” Cobb asked.

Din squeezed his eyes shut as he shook his head. He needed to do this—no matter the pain, he _had_ to. There was no other way to move forward from what had happened. Cobb pressed his lips to the side of Din’s helmet, warm affection and understanding blooming along their mental link.

Din stepped back and took a deep, shuddering breath. Cobb squeezed his hand, removing his other one from Din’s neck. Din couldn’t help but frown at the loss, and from the amused look Cobb sent him he picked up on it through their link.

Din walked further into the tunnel, his steps slow as he looked around. It was a direct contrast to the city above them: benches were overturned, blaster marks scored the walls, a thick layer of dust covered every surface. Din’s foot knocked against something in the darkness, sending it bouncing across the floor. Din froze as he recognized the shape of it, and he knelt down, trembling fingers wrapping around it and picking it up. It was a plush replica of a lava meerkat, the fur worn in places where it had been constantly carried around and played with. Din’s mind immediately supplied him with an image of the toy’s owner: a foundling, male, shy and soft-spoken. Din’s heart ached; he had been rather fond of the boy. He had been looking forward to seeing what kind of Mandalorian he would become.

“Oh,” Cobb hushed as he knelt beside Din. “I…I didn’t realize there were children here, too.”

“They were foundlings,” Din croaked, “like I was. Children with no family to take them in, given a home among warriors.”

Cobb exhaled, the breath leaving in a hiss.

“Are they—”

He didn’t finish the sentence—he didn’t have to. Din could feel the dark cloud of worry roiling on his end of their bond.

“The children would have been evacuated first, taken somewhere safe,” he paused, then after a moment continued. “To Mandalorians, children are the future. Foundlings in particular are often victims of tragedy—war, famine, crime. We do our best to provide for them, not just food and shelter but the love and care of a parent, a family. Their care and safety takes priority above all else; even our own welfare is secondary.”

“So just like you two, then?” Cobb asked, gesturing at the child still asleep in his pram.

“Yes.”

Cobb hummed, looking at the toy in Din’s hands.

“Could we—I mean, it’s a perfectly good toy, right?”

Din turned it over in his hands. Other than the patches of thin fur and a light coat of dust, it was indeed a perfectly good toy.

“I think the kid would like it,” Cobb continued. “Something to play with other than just the lever knob.”

Din nodded in agreement, standing and ignoring the way his knees popped. He tucked the plush under his arm as he headed further down the tunnel towards the forge. He faltered just outside of the doorway, staring into the gloom.

He had never seen the forge unlit.

The room had been ransacked, though by who Din wasn’t sure. All of the Armorer’s tools were gone, as was any trace of the beskar she had been melting down last Din had seen her. Din felt half a second of panic before he quickly pushed it aside. If anyone could have survived a battle with a platoon of Stormtroopers, it was her.

Din’s feet carried him until he was standing within arm's reach of the forge, and he knelt out of reflex. He closed his eyes, his mind calling forth the roar of the forge’s fire, the clash of hammer on armor, the Armorer’s oddly soft voice. Cobb knelt next to him, close enough to brush their shoulders together with a quiet ring of beskar. Din swallowed thickly, grasping at Cobb’s physical and mental presence like a lifeline against the grief, the guilt clawing at his mind.

“This is where my armor was made,” Din whispered after a few minutes, opening his eyes. “Where my signet was chosen. Where...where my clan was formed.”

Cobb nodded slowly, glancing at the mudhorn on Din’s pauldron.

“Your clan...is it just you two?” he asked, tilting his head towards the child’s pram.

Din opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. He knew the answer his heart gave him, but—but. It was one thing to know what he felt, to feel what Cobb felt in their shared mind space, but it was another thing to try and put all that into words.

“Yes. However, I...” The words were stuck in his throat. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus. Gathered up the affection, the love he felt for Cobb and for the child, the intense protectiveness and want to care for them, and pressed it against their mental link, hoping that Cobb would understand what he couldn’t express with words.

_“Oh.”_

Din opened his eyes, tilting his head enough that he could see Cobb. His eyes were wide, and he turned his head to meet Din’s gaze, swallowing hard.

“So...us three then.”

It wasn’t a question.

“If you would like,” Din whispered, unable to keep the mix of nervousness and cautious hope out of his voice. “I—I would like to court you. To one day have you officially join my clan.”

Cobb swallowed, turning back to face the forge. After a few seconds there was a wave of love from Cobb’s end of the link, warmth and light chasing some of the shadows from Din’s heart.

“I would like that,” he answered, voice so quiet Din almost didn’t hear it. “I…I don’t really know how to explain it, but being here with you, with the kid…it feels like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Din turned his head, leaning down and pressing his forehead to the side of Cobb’s head. Cobb turned to meet him, his eyes fluttering closed. Din was suddenly struck with the symbolism of the moment, of asking Cobb to join his clan while kneeling in front of the forge that had made it in the first place. It caused his heart to stutter, and Din reached out with hands that still trembled slightly and took both of Cobb’s in his. It wasn’t enough; he pulled them back and yanked his gloves off, dropping them in his lap and retaking Cobb’s hands. The skin-on-skin contact sent an electric shock through him, and he gasped, the sound echoing in his helmet.

Cobb stared down at their joined hands, flipping his hands over so they were palm to palm. His thumb stroked the back of Din’s hand, and Din could feel the awe coming from Cobb’s end of the bond. His thumb found a scar that crossed three of Din’s knuckles—Din vaguely remembered getting it, the kiss of a vibroblade across his hand as he blocked a strike aimed for his throat—and he traced it, his thumb sweeping slowly back and forth.

“Your hands are soft,” Cobb mumbled.

“A lot of time in gloves.”

Cobb chuckled, the sound low and husky, and lifted Din’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the scar. Din jumped, unable to stop the startled noise that escaped his mouth.

“You’re really not used to people touching you, huh?” Cobb asked. He didn’t lower Din’s hand and his mustache tickled his skin.

“No,” Din answered after a few seconds.

Cobb chuckled again, lowering their hands. Something teasing and mischievous was dancing across his expression and through the link, and Din felt a hot flush climb up his neck.

“Thank you,” Cobb whispered, his expression softening, “for showing me this.”

Din nodded. A chirp from behind them had him turning his head to see the child staring at them.

“Well, look who’s awake,” Cobb said, standing and crossing to the pram. Din followed suit, pulling his gloves back on and attempting to dust off the toy that was still tucked under his arm.

“You ever been here before, kiddo?” Cobb asked, rubbing his hand over the child’s head.

“He has, once before,” Din answered. “Not sure how much he remembers it though.”

Cobb hummed. Din held the plush lava meerkat out to the child, smiling as he cooed and took it. He ears twitched, and after a second he hugged the plush to his chest. A bright happiness unfurled in his chest, and he couldn’t immediately tell if it came from him or Cobb.

“Come on,” Din muttered, heading towards the exit. Cobb took one last look at the unlit forge before turning and following him out.

The door of the Guild’s headquarters flew open as they approached it, a man getting flung from inside and skidding across the dirt, stopping just short of them. The man groaned, curling around his stomach.

“Is that normal?” Cobb asked.

“Some days more than others,” Din sighed.

Another figure appeared in the doorway, looking first at the man on the ground and then at the two of them.

“Mando,” Cara said, leaning against the doorway. “What a surprise.”

“Cara.”

They stared at each other for a moment, tension stretching between them. After a moment Cara smirked and turned, walking back into the building. Din relaxed, trailing after her with Cobb at his heels.

“That’s Cara,” Din explained quietly as they entered the building. “She acts as an enforcer for the Guild. She’s a…friend.”

Cobb nodded, the movement stiff in Din’s periphery. He could feel the unease rolling off of Cobb; even without their bond, the rigid line of his shoulders gave him away. Din stopped just inside the doorway, scanning the room. Not many hunters were present, a few playing dice at one table, another talking to Cara where she leaned against the bar.

“Well, look what the tooka dragged in!” a voice suddenly called from one of the tables.

“That’s Greef Karga,” Din muttered, leading Cobb towards the voice’s source. “He’s in charge of the Guild here.”

“He a friend too?”

“Something like that.”

Din slid into the seat across from Greef, and after a second Cobb followed suit, pressing his leg against Din’s under the table.

“It’s been far too long, my friend,” Greef said, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re not alone! Please, introduce me to your friend.”

Din glanced at Cobb, and got a raised eyebrow in return.

“This is my partner, Cobb Vanth,” Din said with a gesture to Cobb. “Cobb, this is Greef Karga.”

Greef’s face twisted into a surprised expression.

“Partner? That’s certainly a new one,” his gaze turned to the child floating in his pram. “And the little one is still doing well I see.”

The child warbled, more interested in his new toy than his surroundings. Greef leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table.

“Something tells me you didn’t come here just to check in and say hello, though. What can I do for you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Greef huffed, reaching for something in his pocket. He paused however, his eyes narrowing.

“Actually...I have something that I think you’re just the man for.”

Greef stood, gesturing towards a door at the back of the room.

“Follow me.”

Din tensed, and he knew Cobb could feel his inner turmoil from the concerned look he sent his way. Din nudged his side with a slight shake of his head, and Cobb slid out of the seat, waiting for Din to stand before following after Greef.

“The last time I got a mission I was ‘just the man for’, I ended up with the child,” Din whispered as they wove between tables.

“Ah,” Cobb said, brushing the back of his hand against Din’s.

The room they entered was small, occupied only by a table surrounded by four chairs. Greef had already taken a seat at one, and waited for them to sit before placing a flat, round object down on the table. An image flickered to life above it, and it took Din a moment to make out that it was a person—the image had been taken from a distance, blurring the image so that Din could barely make out the shape of two montrals.

“This bounty comes from the city of Calodan, on the planet Corvus,” Greef explained. “The magistrate there, a woman named Morgan Elsbeth, has been having trouble with a vigilante attacking her city.”

“A vigilante?” Din asked.

“Yes. She says she has attacked and killed her guards on multiple occasions, trying to enter the city.”

“Why?”

Greef sighed, “That she did not say.”

Din stared at the flickering image. He looked at Cobb, tilting his head to the side in silent question. After a moment Cobb met his gaze and nodded; there was a faraway look in his eyes, and Din sent a curious pulse through their bond. Cobb responded with a wave of reassurance, and something that Din interpreted to mean ‘later’.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Din said, turning back to Greef.

“Excellent!” Greef said, turning the puck off and sliding it forward. “You’ll need to meet with the magistrate when you get to Corvus. She’ll give you more details about the bounty and your payment.”

Din’s hand stopped just short of grabbing the puck, and he tilted his head to the side.

“The Guild is not handling the payment?”

Greef leaned forward, his voice lowering.

“Not this time. The payment for this bounty is special. In addition to a monetary reward, the magistrate has offered a material bonus: a spear, made of pure beskar.”

Din’s eyes widened.

“This vigilante must be giving her an awful lot of trouble for that kind of a reward,” Cobb mused, picking up on Din’s surprise.

“Must be,” Greef agreed.

Din took the puck as he stood, Cobb rising with him.

“We’ll take care of it,” Din said.

“I’m sure you will.”

They left the Guild’s headquarters, making their way back to the _Razor Crest_ in silence. Din could feel the rumble of Cobb’s emotions in the back of his mind, something like apprehension weighing them down. It wasn’t until they were back on the ship and Din was starting up the engines that Cobb spoke.

“Have you ever been to Corvus?” Cobb asked softly from his seat behind Din, the child seated in his lap with his new toy.

“No. Never really heard of it before either.”

Cobb hummed. He sounded distracted, and Din turned to see the same faraway look in his eyes. Din rose from his seat and moved to stand in front of Cobb, leaning down and tapping their foreheads together.

“What’s on your mind?” he whispered.

Cobb sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the Keldabe kiss.

“Just a feeling. Something...important is waiting for us on Corvus.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t tell if it’s good or bad, however.”

Din frowned, pulling his gloves off and bracketing Cobb’s face with his hands. His skin was warm, both under Din’s hands and over them as Cobb’s hands rose and covered them. His beard scratched softly against Din’s hands as he turned and pressed his lips to the center of Din’s left palm.

“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together,” Din promised.

Cobb grinned against his palm, opening his eyes as he turned his head back to face Din.

“Together, then.”


End file.
